


More Than He Can Chew

by marysiak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Draco, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, First Time, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Painplay, Prefects' Bathroom, Rough Sex, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6107691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marysiak/pseuds/marysiak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco gets in over his head. Set in 6th year. This was originally inspired by the disappointingly non-slash H/D scenes in the prefects bathroom in the story Harry Potter and the Psychic Serpent by Barb (http://www.schnoogle.com/authorLinks/Barb). Here's what I think should have happened :)</p><p>This was originally 1 chapter, I have expanded it with some reactions and a bunch more sex, cause there's no such thing as too much of a good thing. The D/s comes in later in the story, basically the more the boys meet the further they take things. You can read Ch1-5 as a stand alone finished piece of porn without plot. Or you can continue on to Ch6 in the vague hopes that I figure out how to end it now I've gone and written some damn plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prefects Bathroom

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Harry Potter and the Psychic Serpent](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/178212) by Barb. 



   
More Than He Can Chew (April 2002)  
   
Rating: NC-17  
Genre: Harry/Draco slash  
   
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters but I made them do naughty things  anyway.  
   
   
   
After his run Harry headed up for the prefects bathroom, a new privilege afforded to him this year and knowing how luxurious it was from his one visit in 4th year he was very much looking forward to a nice long soak in the tub... or should that be swimming pool. It was certainly big enough to almost warrant that name.  
   
Unfortunately when he gave the password and walked in he found the prefects bathroom was already occupied, by Draco Malfoy. A most unwelcome addition, as far as Harry was concerned, and highly undeserving of the job of prefect. And to add insult to injury he was in the bath. Harry glared at him in extreme irritation.  
   
Malfoy eyed him warily, his hand inches from his wand which lay on the side of the bath although he didn't allow his relaxed position to tense any. "Potter," he noted.  
   
"I was going to take a bath," he accused Malfoy, as if the boy were only there to annoy him.  
   
Malfoy shrugged. "Be my guest, they made it this big for a reason."  
   
Harry scowled. "To fit your inflated ego into it?" he suggested then turned away to undress.  
   
Draco watched, first with casual disregard and then with growing fascination, as Harry stripped off his layered running clothes. He found himself internally begging for Harry to turn around and yet not wanting to lose his current view of Harry's well shaped backside and he felt his cock harden at the sight.  
   
Throwing the last of his clothes aside Harry turned back to the tub and was immediately arrested by Malfoy's frank and appreciative stare.  
   
"Well, well, Potter," Malfoy drawled lasciviously. "Haven't we grown up into a big boy."    
   
Flustered Harry stepped quickly into the water as much to hide his body as anything. "Shut up, Malfoy," he muttered. He settled on the opposite side of the tub from Malfoy wishing the water wasn't so clear. There were no bubbles, just a faint hint of blue-green colour and a scent of rosemary. He laid his glasses and wand at the side of the tub then held his nose and ducked his head under the water for a minute, floating in a relaxing cocoon of warm water. However when he surfaced and leant back against the side he felt even more exposed than before. Without his glasses he couldn't see Malfoy, but Malfoy could see him, which bothered him. He picked up his glasses again and charmed them to stay clear in the steam then put them back on. When he did he found Malfoy was still watching him. "Haven't you got anything better to do than stare at me?"  
   
Draco's mind was positively full of better things to do than just stare at Potter and the way he was disconcerting the other boy only made those ideas seem more interesting. He wasn't ashamed to admit he used sex as a weapon, it wasn't one he'd ever tried on Potter before but after the eye full he'd just got it seemed like a very good time to start. He picked up his wand, stood up and started to wade across the pool, the water level just far enough below his waist to make you very aware of what it was only just covering.  
   
Harry stared at Malfoy in surprise, reaching out to check where his wand was, as the other boy stood up and came toward him. His eyes strayed across the other boy's form and found it different from what he would have expected. Malfoy wasn't built like Harry, his frame was smaller, less muscular and his skin paler but he was sculpted like a marble statue and the water sent silver reflections dancing across his body. Much as Harry would deny it if asked outright... Malfoy was beautiful and he could feel his own body traitorously reacting to that.  
   
Malfoy stopped right in front of him, cast a locking charm on the bathroom door and looked down at him with an inscrutable expression that made Harry's breath catch nervously, his hand laying casually on his own wand. Then the other boy smiled in a very worrying manner and pointing his wand at himself cast the bubble charm that Harry had seen Fleur use before to breathe under the lake. Dropping his wand next to Harry's, Malfoy vanished under the water and Harry looked down in horror as everything became terrifyingly clear. Hands slid over his thighs and a warm mouth fastened onto his already half-hard penis. Malfoy was going down on him.  
   
Harry gasped and moved one hand under the water to pull Malfoy away from him, but somehow only got as far as tangling his fingers in the other boy's hair. He threw his head back and closed his eyes as the most incredible sensations washed over him. Malfoy had clearly done this before. Harry's senses slid away from him as he was caught up in what he was feeling, he felt Malfoy wrap his arms around his hips then he was pulling him forward and down into a more open position. Harry didn't stop him, even arching himself up into the other boy's embrace. He was unaware of any conscious thought beyond wanting this to go on forever. Tongue on the underside of his cock, trailing up to tease the head and then swiftly swallowing him again, hands firmly massaging his balls, fingers running over the cleft of his backside, stroking him, pushing gently inside... with a groan Harry came and then collapsed back against the side of the pool.  
   
Moments later Malfoy resurfaced and removed the Bubble Head charm. Harry opened his eyes and found the other boy standing over him again, looking down with a victorious look and a smirk on his reddened mouth. There was a trace of semen on his lower lip. Harry suddenly realised how this game worked and he flushed in humiliation. Malfoy had beaten him, he'd taken what he wanted and Harry had lain there and let him do it. Shown that Malfoy turned him on, given him the power. Anger flashed through him along with stubborn determination. Malfoy was not going to win, he was going to show the Slytherin just how fast a learner he could be.  
   
He saw Malfoy's expression waver just a little as he registered the change in Harry's eyes but he was moving before the other boy could step back. He used his larger frame to knock the other boy sideways onto the seating ledge and knelt over his thighs, holding him down with one arm across his chest. He put his wand down within easy reach then slid his other hand between Malfoy's legs and firmly grasped hold of the erection there. Then he leant forward and slowly licked the semen from Malfoy's lip before pressing closer and plundering the other boy's mouth as if to take back all he had left there. Malfoy's hands gripped his upper arms tightly, he had dropped his wand into the water when Harry had grabbed him.  
   
Harry moved away from the kiss, pulling Malfoy's lower lip with him between his teeth then letting it go. He began to play with the erection in his hand as his mind worked feverishly trying to figure out exactly what his move should be. If he just brought Malfoy off the best he could claim was a draw and not even that since it could be seen as thanking Malfoy for what he'd done to Harry. He had to retake the high ground, he had to take something that Malfoy wouldn't willingly give. He raked his eyes over the other boy's body, his own cock already starting to harden again. Could he do this? He climbed off Malfoy and for a moment the other boy started to regain his smug appearance but it disappeared again as Harry forced his legs between Malfoy's and knelt on the ledge, pulling him up to straddle his lap. Malfoy looked worried and opened his mouth to speak but Harry covered it with his hand, his other hand going back to stroke his erection and caress lower between his legs.    
   
He knew from what Malfoy had already shown him that the trick was to keep the other person too aroused to protest and sure enough as he worked the other boy teasingly his face relaxed into an expression of desire and his eyes fell shut. Malfoy's hands kneaded Harry's upper arms like a cat padding. He uncovered Malfoy's mouth and brought that hand down between his legs too, this time reaching further to penetrate the other boy with one finger. Malfoy moaned and propped himself against the side of the pool with his arms to give Harry better access. He had him now, but could he make the final move? It would mean losing something himself but it would be a loss Malfoy need never realise. Was it worth it to beat him? The answer was a resounding yes, beating Malfoy was always worth it. Besides, as long as he was captain of the Quidditch team and Malfoy was a prefect they would be sharing this bathroom, if he didn't do this he would be at a disadvantage all year and maybe longer. Plus... he found he really wanted to.  
   
Harry slid a second finger inside Malfoy, working them apart in a way that made the other boy gasp. He leant forward and kissed him again, roughly, then licked down to the soft skin below his ear where he latched on and bit down as he thrust his fingers inside him. He let go of Malfoy's cock and wrapped his arm tightly around the other boy's waist. Then he slid his fingers out slowly, causing Malfoy to moan in protest, and picked up his wand. When he released Malfoy's neck, leaving behind a dark red mark, he whispered in his ear. "Hold on tight, Malfoy." Then he was lifting him up out of the water. Malfoy instinctively wrapped his legs and arms tightly around Harry to stop himself falling and Harry carried him the few steps to the wide towel strewn bench. He laid him down on his back and knelt over him, pinning his hands above his head and kissing him again before he could say anything.  
   
Draco knew what Potter was planning. He hadn't been sure until this moment but now, lying on his back with Potter's weight holding him down, he was, and he already knew it was too late. Too late for anything more than mild protests and annoyance at being beaten at his own game. He'd never done this before, never even done it to anyone else. Blow jobs had been his speciality and he'd never let things go further. Damn Potter and his extremely Gryffindor ability to charge headlong into unknown territory. And damn himself for being too turned on by that to fight him.  
   
Harry broke the kiss to cast a Lubrication Charm and then discarded his wand. He looked straight into Malfoy's eyes, acknowledging the acceptance of defeat he saw in them as he pushed one leg further up and draped it over his shoulder. He smiled victoriously as he slid slowly inside the other boy, delighting in the mixture of emotions he saw chase across his face and in the feel of the hot, tight passage he was penetrating. He saw fear and discomfort, anger, desire, pleasure and best of all an innocence that he had never thought to see. This was Malfoy's first time, he knew it as surely as if the other boy had told him. He had never done this before.  
   
Harry grinned, he had won. No matter what Malfoy did for the rest of his life Harry would always own this moment. He would always be Malfoy's first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A further thought on the general failure of the boy's to use condoms in my stories so far. I do not condone sex without condoms however I felt that with the ages of the boy's and the situations I have written them in so far they would be unlikely to have thought to use condoms. Luckily for them they are both virgins and neither is capable of getting pregnant. This does not mean you will be that lucky, use a condom.


	2. His Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't planning to add to this but I'm trying to get into writing again and writing short bits of smut is easier than finishing my damn epic length unfinished piece.

**His Eyes (March 2016)**

Every time. Every time he had a moment to himself, every time he lay in his bed and closed the curtains. Every single time.

He'd only stepped into the prefect's bathroom once since that day, and he'd had to flee after only stepping though the door. Because it was all he could see.

For a week and a half, every where he looked. In the green hangings of his common room, the glint of the sun on the lake, the liquid depths of his coffee.

Potter's eyes.

Potter's eyes drilling into his own, holding them, never once looking away.

Potter's eyes pinning him to the bench with more weight than his body, sinking into him deeper than his cock, demanding more of him than his lips.

As he lay now on his back, clutching his erection in the dark, he could see them as he relived for the hundredth time the feel of Potter sliding inside him. That triumphant grin breaking across his face then morphing into a slow oh of pleasure as he pulled back and then thrust in again.

Potter's eyes green and open all the way down as he bent over, completely controlling Draco's body as he kissed him again. Thrusting his tongue inside his mouth as he thrust his cock harder and deeper into his body. His hands still back above his head even though he could have easily freed them now, Potter's hand grasping one of his own, tangling their fingers together.

Then pulling back, Potter's back arching, his hips thrusting. Watching him. One hand holding Draco's leg in place across his chest and up over his shoulder. The other hand running down his wet chest to take hold of Draco's cock. Rough fingers running over the sensitive head than gripping him tightly.

Potter had never spoken a word and neither had Draco. But in his head he fabricated a dialogue.

“ _This what you want?” Potter gasped “You like it?”_

Draco bit his lip, bit his tongue.

“ _Say it,” Potter demanded. “Tell me.”_

“Yes,” said Draco.

“ _Yes what?” Potter slowed his movement._

“Yes I want it.” Draco whispered to himself.

“ _Want what?”_

“Want... want this, want you.”

“ _Want me to what?”_

As he played out the scene in his head Draco's hand sped up on his cock, his other hand tugging on his balls.

“Want you to... to fuck me. Want you to fuck me, hard.”

“ _Like this?” Potter thrust harder again inside him. Those eyes glittering._

“Yes, want you inside me, fucking me.”

“ _Tell me how much you like this.”_

“Oh Gods, love it, feels so good.”

“ _You want to come?”_

“Yes, yes.”

“ _Ask nicely.”_

“Please, please I want to come, want you to make me come.”

“ _Who, who do you want to make you come?”_

“You, oh you, please.”

His hands and his eyes and his cock.

“ _Who?”_

“You, Harry. Oh Gods, Harry, Harry please.”

And with a gasped babble Draco came over his hands and his stomach and his chest. Came hard, though not as hard as he'd come that day. That day when his head had spun and he'd thought he might pass out with it, his cries echoing off the tiled walls and when he'd opened his eyes again, dizzy and broken, Harry had reached out and smeared his come over his lips, making him taste it, pushing his fingers into Draco's mouth and spearing him with his eyes that only finally flickered half way closed as Harry slammed deep into him and finally came himself.

Those eyes still watching him as he pulled out, still watching him as he felt for his wand then stood up. Looking down on him as he lay shattered and weak on his back. His thigh aching where it had been pushed past comfort for too long. His ass throbbing in a way he couldn't even describe. Wet and sticky and Potter finally turned away and plunged into the water of the bath. Disappeared for long moments and then broke the surface on the other side of the water. Rubbed his hand through his hair and climbed out, not turning around.

And all through that long silence of Potter drying himself off and dressing and unlocking the door and walking away without turning around even once, Draco could still see his eyes. Those eyes holding him in place.

And he lay on his back now, running his fingers through the come on his stomach and bringing them up to his mouth, remembering the feel of towels and wood underneath his naked body, the steamy clammy feel of the room as he had cooled down, the endless silence cut only by his own breathing. The moan he'd made as he tried to get up, every muscle wrung out and aching. The way he'd staggered a bit as the blood had rushed out of his head when he stood up and he'd had to sit down again only to gasp out once more at the strange feel of his ass against the hard bench. So sensitive and sore but not sore and suddenly needing the bathroom and feeling lost and young, which had seemed especially odd.

He found his wand among the bed clothes and cleaned himself off, rolling over onto his side and pulling the covers around him for comfort.

What was he going to do? He bit his lips and his tongue, hugged himself into a ball.

' _Not going to cry not going to cry not going to cry.'_

But he was.


	3. Gryffindor Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Practising writing again on this piece of smut in order to finish a much longer story I never finished. Please do read my other Potter stories once you've finished this one.

It wouldn't be the first time Harry had acted without thinking things through. He supposed it wouldn't be the last either. But he had never been so conflicted about his choices as he was now.

What he had done had been petty, perhaps even spiteful. But Draco Malfoy had always brought that out in him. To take such a huge step, do such a huge thing, just to get one over on someone. Perhaps the Hat had been right that he should have been sorted into Slytherin.

And then he would remember kissing Malfoy. For some reason, of all things, that was the moment he remembered the most clearly. The feel of Malfoy's lips under his. Kissing Malfoy, having the boy turn pliant and open underneath him, the feel of his tongue and the surprising softness of his skin.

He didn't regret kissing Malfoy. He hadn't even decided yet what he was doing, and in that moment of embarrassed angry hazy orgasmic indecision he had just kissed him and it had felt good. There were other moments, when he had lost himself a little in the feelings and let the awareness of why he was fucking Malfoy slide away. But the kiss was the one that was untouched by his attempt to beat Malfoy at his own game.

If he had stopped there he might have lost the game, but he would have kept his honour intact.

And that was the problem. Even though Draco had never said no, never asked him to stop, what he had done was wrong. He had sunk to Malfoy's level, used something that should have been special and important as a weapon. And it had felt so good.

He hadn't felt a second of uncertainty or shame until he had swum across the pool and stepped out to leave. The air suddenly shockingly close and lacking in oxygen. And he had been too horrified to turn around and look at what he had done. Frightened of what he would see behind him. He had dressed and fled the room in silence like a coward.

And he was still afraid. Afraid to look Malfoy in the eyes, and of how much he wanted to. At first he had been afraid of what Malfoy might tell people. But after so much time passing and no-one saying anything it was even worse. Malfoy hadn't said a word, and that wasn't like him. He hadn't said a word at all to Harry in a week and a half. Not an insult, not a taunt.

And that was so much more awful, because it meant maybe he had actually hurt him. Actually done something so messed up that even Malfoy couldn't play it off.

And yet as terrible as he thought what he had done probably was, he also couldn't stop remembering how good it had felt. How much he had wanted to do it. Those kisses, pulling Malfoy into his lap, sliding inside him. And then he would remember the conflict on Malfoy's face and he would run around and around in circles; guilt, shame, desire, lust, guilt.

And after a week and a half of it Harry couldn't take it any more.

He was going to have to do something else stupid, he just wasn't sure exactly what. Or even how. He only ever saw Malfoy in public and whatever it was he was going to do it couldn't happen in the Great Hall or in class.

In the end he dropped him a note, unsigned, sent with a school owl not with Hedwig. Like a coward.

It said, “11pm, muggle studies classroom. Need to talk to you.”

He'd picked some place on the 1st floor since he'd be able to get around the school at night more easily than Malfoy would. Now all he needed was to figure out what the hell he was actually going to say when he got there. If Malfoy showed up that was.

By 10pm he was massively losing his nerve. He still hadn't figured out what he was going to say, or even what he was meeting Malfoy for at all. Was he going to apologise? It's not like Malfoy would ever have apologised for what he'd done first. In fact he was pretty sure that if he'd not... done what he'd done, Malfoy would have held that blow job over him for the rest of his life.

At 10.30pm he took the map and his cloak and left Gryffindor Tower as unobtrusively as possible. It didn't take long to get to the 1st floor and although the classroom door was locked, a quiet “Alohomora” took care of it. He took his cloak off and stowed it away, not wanting Malfoy to find out he had it. It was dark, but he didn't think he should risk turning on any lights. A half moon shone through the windows and his eyes adjusted slowly.

He was well early, and he watched the map for any sign of teachers approaching or for Malfoy. He could hear the seconds ticking by from the clock on the wall by the blackboard. His panic was still rising and he had to purposefully slow his breathing down.

Actually it wasn't just panic rising, he realised it was at least half excitement. This would be the first time he and Malfoy had been alone together since that evening. If he showed up.... but suddenly Malfoy's dot was on the move up the stairs from the dungeons.

He was shocked to realise he was growing hard at the sight of Malfoy getting closer and closer to the classroom. He quickly murmured “Mischief managed,” and stuffed the map in his pocket, adjusting his trousers and trying to remember he wasn't here for... that.

He had calmed himself a bit when the door creaked open and Malfoy stuck his wand and his head around it carefully, looking like he expected a trap.

Harry showed his hands, his wand in his pocket still. He couldn't see Malfoy's face, just the light of the hall shining around his blonde hair.

Malfoy slid fully inside and closed the door, stepping forward only a bit, but enough for the moonlight to hit his face. “Potter?”

“Yeah,” said Harry.

Malfoy shuffled his feet, looking away. His wand not entirely lowered.

Neither of them spoke.

The clock ticked.

Finally Malfoy shrugged in a way that was almost a shiver. “I thought you wanted to talk?” His eyes flicked up at last to Harry's face.

Harry opened his mouth. Shut it again. Licked his lips.

Malfoy stepped towards him, closing the distance between them till there was only an arms span.

He looked straight into Harry's eyes for the first time since... and Harry's mouth went dry. The moon had turned Malfoy into silver and grey all over. He tried to look away from his eyes and only ended up looking at his mouth instead. Malfoy's lips were slightly parted and he was breathing as if his heart were beating just slightly too fast.

Harry licked his lips again. He was pretty sure he was supposed to say something now. He had no idea what that was.

He took two quick steps across the distance and although Malfoy startled slightly backwards it wasn't far enough to stop Harry reaching him and stopping his retreat with one hand firm on the back of Malfoy's head.

When he kissed Malfoy he kind of knew that this was what he had come here for all along. To kiss Malfoy again.

There was a little hitch in Malfoy's breathing just before Harry's lips touched his, he heard it in the silent room, a little gasp. Then their lips were touching and Harry knew he was a terrible terrible person and that if Malfoy tried to leave now he would hold him still until he gave in. His other hand was on Malfoy's jaw now as he licked into Malfoy's mouth. Malfoy dropped his wand and the sound of it bouncing off the floorboards was sharp.

Harry pulled his own wand out and muttered the spell to lock the door directly into Malfoy's mouth.

–

He had known, that it would be Potter. Right from the moment he had got the note. But he had pretended maybe it wasn't. He wasn't going to meet Potter, he was going to see who had sent the note. He was being careful. He had his wand. He could do whatever he wanted. Lot's of people might want to meet him in an empty classroom. He was Draco Malfoy.

He knew it would be Potter.

He couldn't see his face when he first came into the classroom, it was too dark and his eyes hadn't adjusted. But he could see the white of palms held up showing no threat.

As soon as he heard Potter's quiet “yeah” his breathing stopped behaving itself. He was alone with Potter and as his eyes slowly adjusted he could see Potter's face, see his eyes. Looking at him.

Arousal raced through him and he shifted awkwardly and dropped his gaze. Potter had wanted to talk, the note had said. He could see Potter out of the corner of his eye. He still hadn't said anything. He should just leave, this was stupid. But... he tried to shake off the arousal, felt himself twitch with it. “I thought you wanted to talk?” he said finally, letting his eyes flick back up to Potter's face where they got stuck.

For a moment he though Potter was going to speak but then he just licked his lips. Draco watched his tongue.

Almost before he realised it he was moving across the room to better see Potter's face in the shadows. He looked up at Potter's eyes again, they were dark, not the sharp green they had been in the light of the Prefects bathroom. He felt light headed. He watched Potter lick his lips again, slower this time.

What the absolute fuck was he doing still here?

When Potter darted forward he only had time for a half gasp before the other boy was kissing him firmly, one hand solid on the back of his head to hold him in place. And he knew this was why he had come here. For Potter to kiss him again.

He heard his wand hit the floor before he realised he had let go of it. He closed his eyes as Potter locked the door, the feeling of lips forming the spell against his mouth, Potter's breath breathing into him, sent shivers down his spine. He reached out for Potter's hips, wanting to feel Potter's body against his own. But when they got there he just stroked them over Potter's trousers, feeling the shape of him. He wanted Potter to pull them together, wanted Potter to push him back against a desk or the wall or the door. Or to knock him to the floor and grind down into him.

But all Potter did was kiss him and kiss him.


	4. The Empty Classroom

He didn't know how long it had been. Potter had kissed him for a very long time before he finally reached down from his face and snaked one arm around Malfoy's waist to pull them flush together at last.

Malfoy moaned into his mouth and as if to somehow signal his acceptance he lifted his hands from Potter's hips up to his head. As if to say, see, I'm not going to push you away, take what you want.

He wound his fingers into Potter's stupid, wild hair. Scratched his fingernails against the back of Potter's stupid, soft neck. Opened his mouth wider to let Potter's stupid, amazing tongue in even deeper.

Both of Potter's hands were at his waist now. Sliding down to cup his ass as they moved softly against one another. Both unmistakably hard.

Potter's hands seeking his waistband, tugging here, pulling there, pushing up and under his shirt. He hadn't worn his robes despite the chill of the evening air. He hadn't worn his robes cause really, he'd known he was meeting Potter and he'd wanted to be... easily accessible. He laughed at himself in his head and thrust harder against Potter.

But Potter's hands were moving him back so they could reach the fastenings of his trousers.

He did laugh then, a short puff of gasping self-mockery as his loose trousers did exactly what he'd worn them for and dropped to the floor all by themselves as soon as they were undone. He hadn't worn any underwear either.

Potter looked at him then, their eyes open and meeting for the first time in who knew how long they'd been standing there together.

Draco Malfoy standing in front of him, in the middle of a dark classroom in the moonlight, with his trousers puddled around his ankles and his cock hard and leaking and his lips red and his mouth still open, his breath coming in little panting huffs, and his eyes like black holes.

Potter reached one hand out and ran his fingers up the underside of Malfoy's cock slowly. His eyes fluttered, his head fell back a little.

"What are we doing?" Potter said, his voice catching a little in his throat. His hand still lightly on Malfoy's cock, thumb now resting on the head.

Malfoy looked at him again, startled. He didn't answer.

"You want this?" Potter asked, sounding conflicted.

Malfoy's cock jerked at the words. Malfoy bit his bottom lip, drawing breath as if to speak, but not speaking. He stared at Potter like a wild animal about to run, his heart thumping in his chest.

Potter squeezed his eyes shut then open again and with a half step closer again, he grasped Malfoy's cock firmly. "Do you want this?" he bit out, accenting every word.

"Yes!" the reply was a rushed gasp. "Yes."

"Why?"

Draco's face pulled in. That was the wrong question.

Potter's other hand was on his face, touching his cheek, the hand around his cock loosened instead of tightened. "Why?" the question more insistent.

Draco suddenly wanted to get away and didn't know how. He didn't know why, and he didn't want to know. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. "You can't ask that," he protested. Pushing Potter's hand away from his face. He could feel himself blushing.

"I can't?" Potter's tone was harsher again and the hand below tightened once more.

Draco felt a rush of relief, that was better, that was more like things were supposed to go.

"I want this... want you," Draco managed.

Potter stared at him, his eyes narrowed, his own breath fast too. His fingers were moving on Draco's cock again. "Want what?" he asked.

"You... want you to..." Potter's other hand was moving around his waist, down the curve of his ass. "Want you to f.... fuck me," he gasped out. Potter's stupid fingers ran along the cleft of his buttocks.

"Right here, in this classroom?"

"Yes."

"What, over a desk?" Potter's voice was rough and his eyes were inscrutable.

Draco thought he might come right now if he wasn't careful. "Yes, if you want. If that's how you... want."

Potter grabbed his hip and in a dizzying movement he was flush against Draco's back, erection pushing against Draco through the cloth of Potter's stupid trousers, one hand still firmly holding Draco's cock. With the other hand on the back of Draco's neck he forced his head down until his cheek was pressed against the wood of a nearby desk. "Like this?"

In answer Draco laid his hands either side of his head, arched his back and pressed his ass hard back into Potter's crotch. "Yes," he whispered.

"Jesus, Malfoy," Potter whispered. His hand ran down Draco's spine and pushed his shirt up out of the way.

He thrust a few times slowly against Draco's ass, Potter's stupid clothes were rough against his skin and Draco wanted them gone.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Potter said again, softly, as he pulled back, letting go of Draco's cock at last, leaving only one hand laid lightly on the small of his back.

Draco heard the rustle of clothing being undone as that hand stroked his ass, pulled away briefly and Draco moved his head just enough to see a little behind him. Potter was dropping his underwear, then leaning down looking for something in his trousers. Draco shivered, half with the chill against his skin and half with excitement.

When Potter looked back up he caught Malfoy looking at him. He moved closer, further into Draco's eye-line. He still had a t-shirt and a jumper on, though he was naked from the waist down. He had retrieved his wand from his pocket. Draco watched his cock come closer, thinking about the feel of it in his mouth, the taste of it. Thinking of the last moment he'd had any power at all in this thing they were doing and... not missing that at all. If he sucked Potter's stupid cock again he wanted it to be after Potter had shoved him to his knees and force fed it to him, and he wanted Potter to pull back and come all over his face, oh fuck what was wrong with him. What was happening?

Potter cast the lubrication charm on his hand and put his wand on the desk behind him. He brought his hand toward Draco's face, letting the moonlight catch on the shiny liquid coating his fingers. "Still want this, Malfoy?"

"Yes." Draco whispered. Because he did, because at this point it would take Filch and McGonagall bodily dragging him out of this classroom to stop him getting what he wanted, and even thinking that didn't make his erection flag a millimetre.

Harry touched his face with his other hand, still holding the lubed fingers in his eye-line. He touched Draco's lips with his fingers, pushed his hair out of his eyes. "What do you want me to do with it?" he asked lightly, rubbing his wet fingers together.

Draco panted, swallowed. "Put... oh... put your fingers inside me."

Harry moved his hand away and back until Draco felt his fingers, slickly running in between his buttocks. "Here, you want them in here?"

Draco almost smiled he was so desperately pleased this was happening. "Yes, yes please."

Potter slowly pushed one finger inside Draco, the slow slide cm by cm so much better than last time, awkward and unexpected in the pool with only the slightly oily water to ease the way. Draco heard himself making soft encouraging crooning noises that slid into words once Potter had thrust back and forth a few times. "Oh more, please, more, yes." A second finger slid in smoothly beside the first, and a week and a half of trying to awkwardly do this himself with the angles all wrong was washed away by the feeling. "Yes, more, oh, don't stop." And he wasn't even listening to himself any more.

Potter's other hand was rubbing up and down Draco's back and side. "That's good, that's right," he was muttering as he worked in a third finger. "Good boy."

Those words were the final straw, the last bit of Draco's composure and with a sudden arching rush he was unexpectedly coming loudly. Potter surged over him, and smothered his mouth with his free hand, those three fingers driving deep inside him with the movement. But there was no way that cry hadn't echoed across the silent school.

"Fuck!" Potter swore quietly.

Draco just gasped and moaned, still squirming with pleasure.

"Stay still," Potter ordered quietly, pulling his fingers out and moving away to scrabble again at his trousers on the floor.

Draco lay bonelessly across the desk, eyes closed and somewhat uncaring of the consequences of his vocal performance. He heard Potter mutter "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." and thought about opening his eyes to see what he was up to, but couldn't quite manage it yet.

There was silence and eventually Draco levered himself up onto his elbows and looked at Potter. He was staring intently at some sort of map, still half naked and mostly hard, but with his clothes and wand in his hand.

"Potter?" he asked quietly.

"Hold on, I'm looking for Fitch."

He started to stand up, but without looking away from the map Potter hissed, "Stay. Put. I'm not done with you yet."

Draco lay back down further over the desk, his chek just resting on the far edge, letting it take more of his weight than before to let his legs relax a bit. His brain started to slowly turn over again, pondering the unexpected orgasm. But mostly he was wondering if Potter was still going to fuck him or if Filch was going to come along and ruin everything. They should have cast a silencing charm on the room. He wondered where his wand was, he remembered having it when he came in.

"There he is," muttered Potter. "Fourth floor, we might just have got away with it." He looked at Draco, and Draco looked back at him. Potter smiled a very un-Potter smile and stood up casting the silencing charm they should have used earlier and following it with a distraction charm on the classroom door.

He put his wand back down with the map and came over to stand by Draco's head. "Open your mouth," he said.

Desire ran along Draco's spine and he felt his cock twitch lightly as he did as he was told.

Potter ran his semi-erect but swiftly hardening cock around Draco's mouth. “Tongue,” he ordered softly.

Draco licked at the head of Potter's cock, tightening his hands on the edge of the desk as Potter slid himself into Draco's mouth. The angle was awkward, Draco was used to having complete control so his usual techniques were mostly irrelevant here. Yet even though he knew he was struggling it was the hottest blow job he had ever given, trying to work his tongue as best he could, forcing himself not to gag when Potter hit the back of his throat, his neck and shoulders aching from holding his head up, and his cock recovering at record speed to start bumping itself against the edge of the desk under him.

“That'll do,” said Potter almost fondly and drew back, trailing a hand over Draco's hair and down his spine as he walked back around, quickly glancing at the map before he moved behind Draco.

Draco planted his feet firmly on the floor again and pushed his ass up as Potter ran both hands over the pale skin in front of him. His thumbs skimmed his entrance and he pulled Draco's cheeks apart slightly, settling the head of his cock just where Draco wanted it.

He paused there until Draco looked back. Potter was watching for him and he quirked half a smile at him and said, “You ready?”

Draco pushed back, but Potter moved with him.

“Say you want it, Malfoy.”

“I want it, you know I want it.”

“What do you want?”

Draco caught his breath through the rising waves of anticipation and arousal. “Want you to fuck me, Potter. I want you to fuck me, right now!”

Potter made a funny indecipherable face and with a snap of his hips he thrust in hard making Draco produce an indescribable noise. “That's it,” he said in satisfaction. “Make all the noise you want this time.” And he pulled back and started fucking Draco with a heady determination that slowly drove Draco and the desk he was bent over across the room inch by squeaking inch.

Frustrated by the frailty of the furniture, Potter yanked Draco up and walked him to the nearest wall.

“Fuck, yes,” Draco growled as the change in angle caused a flood of new and extremely pleasurable feelings. He braced his hands on the windowsill and arched his back, letting the moonlight fall on his face. He heard something fall and he looked back to see Potter was naked now and his eyes were on him again already, meeting his. He flicked his eyes down to where Potter's hand was digging hard into his hip and his cock was thrusting in so deep he could feel Potter's hipbones leaving little bruises, then back up to those eyes, which had followed his own down and up.

Those eyes on him. Not on Weasley or Granger. Not on Viktor Krum or Cedric Diggory or Cho fucking Chang. On him, just for him. He let one hand fall down to fist his own cock, hoping Potter wouldn't stop him. He didn't. He smiled a twitchy flickering smile instead through the shapes his mouth was making.

Potter was close, he could see him fighting to last longer. His eyes flickered shut as he struggled for control, or maybe just for enough air. But he didn't slow down, his grip tightened so much Draco could feel his nails biting into his skin and his thrusts sped up.

"Do it," Draco encouraged. "Come inside me, Potter. Want you to."

Potter's eyes flew open. "You want it?" he gasped, staring him down with sweat running down his forehead.

"Yes, give it to me, I want it..." Draco felt himself getting close again too. A strange numb sensitivity spreading from his ass to his cock and making sparks inside his brain as he moved his hand faster trying to catch up. "Want you to come inside me...  please... come inside me... Harry."

Potter's eyes widened and then shut as he gasped, "Fuck... oh fuck... fuck!" His hips froze as his muscles all tried to fight their way through his skin and Draco watched every second of it not caring that his neck hurt from twisting around as Potter's cock pulsed deep inside him and he clamped down on it hard as his own body convulsed and he arched back so much that he lost his grip on the window and only Harry's hands were stopping him from toppling. His second orgasm tore out of him like it wasn't ready yet, but it was determined to happen anyway, and it hurt in a spectacular way.

When it was all over they were both on the floor, soaked with sweat. Draco still had his shoes and his shirt on, Potter was entirely nude but for the sheen of sweat that coated his entire body. They leant on each other, gasping softly, heads on each other shoulders, arms limply across one another.

They sat like that until they started to shiver and then Draco carefully climbed onto Potter's lap, wrapping both legs around him and kissed him again. Pushing his chin up with his hand to do so. Potter wrapped his arms around him and kissed him back.

Even sat wound together it was too cold to stay there long and eventually Potter pulled away. They were both shivering.

"You'll need to get up, I can't lift you after that, my thighs are done for," Potter said quietly.

Draco nodded and stood up awkwardly. His own legs hurt, his back ached, his neck was considering going into spasms. There was a stinging pain that turned out on inspection to be bloody nail marks over both his hips. He felt fantastic, and exhausted.

He limped around the room retrieving his wand and his trousers and leaned on a desk to step back into them. When he turned back to Potter he had his jumper on again and was pulling up his trousers. Draco went over to the map on the desk and peered at it curiously, before he'd really figured out the detail Potter was behind him picking up his wand and pulling the map away. When he turned round Potter's face was calm. Draco shivered, his shirt was wet with sweat and his trousers were a loose flowing silk that was better suited to the summer.

"Still cold?" Potter asked.

Draco nodded.

Harry pulled him up against him with the arm holding his wand and studied the map. Draco turned his head into Potter's shoulder and let him look, the wool of his jumper was soft and smelled slightly of wood smoke. "Filch is on the second floor, Snape's in his rooms. You should have a clear run to your dorm."

Draco nodded into his shoulder, winding his arms around Potter's waist. He had a feeling that when he let go he might get lost somehow.

"I won't tell anyone," Harry said thoughtfully. "I mean I can't, they wouldn't... you know my friends wouldn't understand. Or yours. Right?"

"Right," said Draco comfortably into Potter's shoulder.

"So best just not to tell anyone," said Potter.

"Whatever you want."

"But it is best, isn't it?"

Draco stood up properly and looked at him. He looked uncertain. Draco preferred him when he was sure. "I'm not going to tell anyone," said Draco, his eyes flicking up and down from Potter's eyes to his mouth, not interested in being in charge but knowing he had to give Potter something. "This is for us, just for us. It has to be and you shouldn't need me to tell you that. I... I'll meet you when you want. Just send a note. And nobody ever needs to know except us."

He met Potter's eyes properly to make sure he had understood, then leaned forward and kissed that mouth again, soft and certain, and let go.

He unlocked the door and ran quickly out the room, because he was cold and if he couldn't wrap himself in Potter any longer then he wanted to be in bed asleep.

It had been a very good night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please do check out my other Harry/Draco stories on here (for some reason this gets vastly more hits than anything else I've written).


	5. Impatient and Eager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry pushes things further, D/s, pain play, bondage.

In the end he didn’t have the patience to wait for Potter. It had been two days already and he had to know it was going to happen again. He had tried needling Potter in class like he had used to, but he couldn’t keep his cool, couldn’t stop desire flooding through him just to be looking at each other and his cock hardened the minute Potter insulted him back. It was pathetic. He was pathetic. He wanted Potter to tell him how pathetic he was.

He sent a note. It said, “Same place, same time. If you want. I’ll be waiting.”

And he was. Wearing the same trousers as before, but a jumper over his shirt and thicker socks. He was hard already and it was all he could do not to touch himself, unsure if Potter would even show. There had been no reply note, but he hadn’t asked for one. It had seemed risky to send too many notes back and forth. His house-mates had already noticed something was up with him.

It wasn’t as cold tonight, but it was darker, no moonlight just thick clouds.

Finally the door creaked and he held his breath. Was it Potter or Filch? Or worse yet Peeves?

The door opened and a dark figure stepped into the room. Not Filch then, he would have a lamp.

Hopefully Potter closed the door behind him and muttered, “Lumos.”

Draco blinked in the light, stepping forward.

Potter quirked a half smile and locked the door, casting a quick sweep of other spells to make sure they wouldn’t be interrupted.

He approached Malfoy with a firm step and took his chin in one hand. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Draco whispered through the delicious humiliation of just how eager he was.

–

Harry tried his best not to show how pleased he was to have received Malfoy’s note. He had told himself they shouldn't meet again too soon, but in reality he had thought of little else but the things he would like to do with the other boy. Malfoy’s eager compliance the last time had his imagination in over drive with possibilities.

Who knew Malfoy would be this eager to please, this desperate for praise and a firm hand. But then maybe it made sense, he’d always played for attention, always tried to rile Harry. And Harry loved it, loved his compliance. For the first time something that did what he wanted instead of forcing him to bend to accommodate the world. And for it to be Malfoy. It was too delicious to resist. And nobody could say now that he hadn’t made absolutely sure the other boy wanted this just as much as he did. Not that anybody else would ever know.

He gazed into Malfoy’s eyes, grey tinted gold by the light of his wand. He lifted up with his hand so that Malfoy was pulled onto his toes a bit. He liked that he was a little taller than the other boy at the moment, only an inch if that, but it was enough.

He ran the tip of his wand over Malfoy’s lips then down his chest to trace the outline of his cock through those soft silky trousers. Malfoy was hard already, he had left a damp spot on the fine silk. 

“No underwear again,” Harry remarked. “What a little slut you are, Malfoy.” He looked back at Malfoy’s eyes. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Malfoy agreed softly.

“But just for me, right?” he demanded as he pulled up a little more.

“Yes,” Malfoy gasped. “Just for you.”

Harry smiled that new hard smile that made his eyes glint. He let go of Malfoy’s chin. “Knees,” he ordered, and leaned back against a nearby desk, thrusting his hips forward to make it obvious what was required.

Malfoy dropped immediately and began to unfasten Harry’s trousers with eager fingers. Harry watched him, holding his wand forward so he could see every detail of Malfoy’s face. Soon Harry’s trousers and pants were at his ankles and Malfoy’s hands were reaching for his cock.

“No hands,” Harry snapped. His cock twitched with pleasure as Malfoy immediately dropped them and held them behind his back. It gave him a notion, and with a flick and a whisper, Malfoy’s hands were bound tightly together.

Malfoy gasped and Harry saw him give a slight tug to see how firm the bindings were. He looked up at Harry through his eyelashes, his cheeks pink.

“Mouth,” said Harry with a smirk.

Malfoy dropped his eyes in acceptance and leaned forward to take Harry’s cock into his mouth, his lips closing around the head, tongue licking delicately.

Harry relaxed and let him explore, licking up and down the shaft, flattening his tongue against the head and then licking into his slit with little pointy flicks. For a long while Harry zoned out on the sight and feel of it, his pleasure building gradually, but eventually it wasn’t enough just to let Malfoy toy wetly with his cock. He reached down and stilled him with a hand to his chin. “Keep your mouth open,” he told the other boy, holding his head still. He ran the head of his cock over the other boys face, leaving saliva and pre-come on his lips and cheeks, coming back to slide it into his open mouth, the underside moving deliciously over the boys flat tongue. He tightened his grip, pushing his cock slowly into the back of Malfoy’s throat, feeling it convulse as his reflexes tried to cough. “Swallow,” he ordered. The other boys throat flexed around the head of his cock even as tears sprang into Malfoy’s eyes. Harry groaned at the feeling and the sight of the other boy struggling not to struggle. “If I’d known you looked this good with my cock inside you I’d have done this sooner,” he told him, thrusting lightly in and out of Malfoy’s throat.

The other boy moaned, his face red and his eyes wide.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it, all those years,” Harry gasped. “My cock down your throat shutting you up.” He thrust harder, taking hold of Malfoy’s head firmly with both hands. “Running around trying to get my attention. Should have just asked, Malfoy.” His words started to intersperse with grunts as he pumped his cock faster and deeper into Malfoy’s throat, his hands fisted into his hair. “You look so… fucking pretty… on your knees… with your... lips wrapped around me… sucking my dick… like the little... cock slut you are.”

Malfoy’s face was wet with tears and saliva now, but his eyes never moved from Harry’s face and he made no effort to get away.

Harry pulled out suddenly and with a rough, “Keep your mouth open,” he fisted his cock once, twice, and came onto Malfoy’s upturned face, spurting into his open mouth and over his lips, his nose, his chin. Malfoy only blinked as come landed across his forehead and into his hairline.

Harry fell back against the desk again for support as a shiver ran through his legs. He tugged his trousers up but left them undone and then dropped slowly to his knees in front of Malfoy and stroked his come covered face. “This is how I like you,” he told him. “Covered in my come.” He rubbed the creamy liquid into Malfoy’s face, dipping his fingers in and out of his mouth, playing with his tongue. “Bet you hate being messy.” He smeared more of the come from Malfoy’s forehead up into his hair.

Malfoy whimpered in the back of his throat.

“I like you messy.” He pushed Malfoy lightly and the boy fell back awkwardly. Harry cast a cleaning charm on himself as Malfoy lay on the floor with his arms twisted beneath him. Harry took off Malfoy’s shoes one at a time and then with an “Accio trousers” Malfoy was half naked on the floorboards of the classroom. He lay still, watching Harry.

With deliberate slowness Harry took Malfoy’s legs and pushed them up, spreading them apart. He’d had two days to research useful spells and he had made use of them. Going on a mix of instinct and fantasy, he cast a sticking charm on the two desks either side of them and bound Malfoy’s ankles and just below his knees to the two parallel legs, using the same spell he’d used on his hands. This had the effect of pulling Malfoy’s legs even further apart and his hips up, spreading him wide open for Harry.

“Now,” he said, to be certain. “I know you don’t want to go anywhere, but best to just make sure, don’t you think?” He waited for a response this time and slowly Malfoy nodded his agreement. “Good boy.”

As before something lit up unbidden in Malfoy’s eyes at the phrase. He struggled a little and got his bound arms positioned under him so they held him up without being crushed. His cock stood up hard and proud between his open legs. Harry could already feel his cock starting to twitch to life again at the sight of his adversary vulnerable and wanting.

Now that Harry had come once he felt like he could concentrate better on the task at hand. Exploring just how many ways there were to make Draco Malfoy fall apart completely. He wanted to push this, he had this strange feeling that maybe there was no too far in this situation. It was exhilarating and singular, he couldn’t imagine having this chance any other place with any other person. 

“Look at you,” he whispered. “Spread open for me like a cheap whore, slumming it are we Malfoy? Does it get you off letting someone who’s so beneath you use you like this?”

Malfoy’s eyes were glazed and his mouth still hung slightly open. He seemed incapable of speech.

“Not that I am, beneath you. But that’s what you think, right? You know my mother was a mudblood.” Harry purposefully used the slur. “Making my father a blood traitor, right? What would your Slytherin friends think if they knew how much you loved sucking my dirty half blood cock? What would your father think?” As he spoke he traced one finger lightly up and down Malfoy’s erection. “Not so pure now, are we?” He gathered a pearl of liquid off the top of Malfoy’s cock and then sucked that finger into his mouth, tasting it. It tasted good.

Malfoy gasped softly.

Then with a sudden jerk Harry reached out and slapped his erection sharply.

Malfoy yelped, but the look of stunned desire didn’t leave him.

Harry smiled and brought his hand back across, catching the shaft with his knuckles this time.

Malfoy made a yowping noise.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked with faux concern. “Just a little pain, you can take it can’t you?” He flicked the head of Malfoy’s cock hard with his finger, making him jerk. “Big, strong, pureblood boy like you.” He slapped again and again, light but sharp. “You can handle this.” 

Malfoy panted and gasped and yelped and squirmed as Harry tortured the firm flesh between his legs. But he never once said stop or even no. Not a single actual word escaped his lips as his cock was slapped and flicked and backhanded over again and he came back to watch Harry’s face as fast as he could between throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut to manage the pain. And God it was good to hurt him, to see him squirm, the little bastard. 

Harry stopped and grasped hold of his cock firmly, his hand at the base leaving a length still exposed. He paused to let Malfoy settle and their eyes fixed on each other. “Still hard,” Harry said, squeezing slightly. 

Malfoy nodded slowly.

“I want you to tell me to hit you again.”

Malfoy drew in a slow unsteady breath as he processed that.

“Or I can always untie you and leave, if you prefer,” Harry said lightly, his heart in this throat.

Malfoy swallowed. “Hit me,” he said quietly.

“What was that?”

He swallowed again and spoke more clearly, “Hit me, again, Po… Harry.” The next was softer, “I want you to.”

Harry smiled, fighting to stop it from becoming a grin. “What’s the magic word, Malfoy? Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” Harry was already hard again and he adjusted himself casually.

“Please,” Malfoy said obediently, his voice breathy. “Please hit me again.”

Adjusting his hand he held Malfoy’s cock cradled so it couldn’t bounce away and absorb the impact. Then he slapped it firmly into his own hand.

Malfoy howled and tears fell down his cheeks. 

Harry stroked the hot flesh in his hand, soft and throbbing. Waiting for Malfoy to meet his eyes again. Finally he did and Harry looked at him, still holding his erection. “Want to leave?”

Malfoy shook his head almost frantically.

“Then what do you want me to do?” Harry led him.

“Again,” Malfoy gasped, looking almost shocked at his own words. “Please, hit me again.”

“Be specific, I would very much for you to be specific.”

“Please, slap my cock again,” Malfoy said in a heartbreakingly fractured tone.

“With pleasure.” Holding his cock the other way this time Harry slapped the other side, harder.

This time Malfoy really squirmed, hips twisting as best they could, falling back on top of his arms and making little yelping noises like an animal.

Harry had released his cock to let him absorb the pain, but as soon as he began to still he reached for it again. Holding it softly.

Eventually Malfoy came back to meet his eyes, looking more than a little broken. He started to open his mouth.

“Shhh,” said Harry. “That’s enough.” He stroked the heated flesh lightly, moving one hand down to play with Malfoy’s balls. The skin there was noticeably cooler. He gathered them into his hand and massaged them. “You’ve been very good. I’m very pleased with you.”

To his slight embarrassment Malfoy burst into tears.

Harry quickly released his legs so that he could gather the other boy in to him. “Hey there, it’s okay,” he soothed, kissing the other boy and trying to hide his own panic. “Um… I’ve got you.” He stroked his hair and muttered another cleaning charm to clean off his face of the collected come, tears, saliva and sweat that was smeared over it.

Malfoy turned his face into him and buried it against his neck, crying softly with little pants of breath.

“It’s okay.” Harry stroked his back and wondered if he should unbind his hands. He wasn’t done yet, but maybe he had pushed Malfoy too far. It wasn’t like he had the faintest idea what he was doing. And yet he was still hard and, despite his tears, so was Malfoy.

After a few minutes Malfoy had relaxed and his breathing had steadied. Harry rolled him onto his back and he lay there complacently, head still turned to Harry, face blotchy and eyelashes wet. Harry studied him carefully, after a moment he reached out and pushed Malfoy’s jumper and shirt up over his belly, revealing more pale skin. He watched his face to judge his reaction as he ran his hand over the skin, up under the edge of the fabric to lightly touch his nipples, back down to comb through the blonde hair above his red, swollen prick.

“Do your arms hurt?” he asked.

Malfoy nodded once, but didn’t speak.

Harry unbound them and pulled them out from underneath him. Malfoy hissed as his shoulders protested being pulled back for so long and Harry slipped his hands up under the jumper and massaged them then pushed the jumper up over Malfoy’s head taking his arms with them. With a muttered spell the jumper and Malfoy’s hands with it were stuck firmly to the floor above his head.

“Better?”

Malfoy nodded slowly, clearly hesitant as to what might happen next.

Harry ran a hand down his body, avoiding his cock, down his leg and then under his knee to lift it up. He moved until the leg was hooked over his shoulder and he was sitting down by Malfoy’s hips. He held the leg firmly in place, once more opening Malfoy up to his gaze. He cast the lubrication charm on his right hand and reached out to circle the displayed opening. He looked up at Malfoy’s face and it was soft and vulnerable. “Say it,” he said, his tone gentle.

Malfoy nodded to himself, pulling his words together. “Please put your fingers inside me,” he whispered.

“Be specific,” Harry reminded him, his voice still soft.

“Please… put your fingers inside my … my hole,” he managed.

Harry rewarded him with one finger pushed slowly in past the second knuckle. He moved it, twisting and exploring.

Malfoy moaned, spreading his legs wider, trying to make himself as accessible as possible.

“You like that?”

“Yes.”

“You want more?”

“Yes, please. Yes, I want more.”

Harry pulled his hand back and this time slid two fingers inside.

–

Draco was beside himself at how exquisite the feeling of Potter’s fingers inside him was. After the hard throat fucking and the explosive pain of his cock being beaten and the unexpected burst of tears he felt he ought to be worn out. He was worn out. But the soft probing, gliding digits felt like heaven and the cool air on his throbbing cock was delicious and his head spun.

Potter didn’t make him ask this time before adding the third finger, he just felt the extra stretch and slide of it being pushed inside him. He heard himself moaning as he watched Potter through a haze. Potter was concentrating entirely between his legs now, watching his fingers being pushed inside Draco, stretching his hole wide, and it made him moan again to think of what Potter could see. Potter twisted his fingers inside him and the feel of skin rotating and stretching around his rim took him higher. His extremities were starting to pulse and he realised he was going to come if Potter kept going. And of course Potter did.

“That’s three fingers, right inside you,” he told Draco. “Can you feel that?” Potter stretched his fingers out, separating them inside of him, opening him wider. “Can you take more?”

Draco stared at him and felt his head nodding almost of it’s own accord.

“I bet you could,” Potter said softly. “My little slut. I bet you could take my whole hand if we worked at it, nice and slow. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” 

He was still twisting and stretching his fingers inside Draco, rotating and pushing and Draco couldn’t answer, couldn’t move, cause oh, he was coming now.

The orgasm rushed at him and cracked his body into a voiceless gasping arch as he spouted come up into the air with rush after rush of muscle spasms. 

Taken by surprise, Potter went with him, pushing his fingers deep into his lifted body, his pinkie driving in beside the other three fingers until his knuckles hit the twitching tightening rim.

When he slumped back to the floor completely Harry let his hand slide out, and rearranged his limbs gently.

“Oh yes,” he said as he stroked Draco’s heaving sides. “It seems you would like that just as much as I would. And now you’re all messy again.” Potter dipped his head down and Draco felt his tongue lapping at the come on his stomach and chest, flickering over his nipples, dipping into his belly button. “I hope you’re not falling asleep, cause I’m not done with you just yet.”

Then Draco’s hands had been released and he was being rolled onto his stomach with his jumper stuffed underneath him, the soft cashmere protecting his sensitive cock from the wooden floor as well as raising his hips up a bit.

“You just lie there like a good slut and take one last thing,” Potter said, his soothing tone at odds with the filthy words.

And Draco let his body be positioned, his mind hazy and soft in the afterglow of coming. Potter moved him like a ragdoll, sliding on top of him and pushing his legs apart just enough to make room. Then he felt the smooth head of Potter’s cock pressing against the slick hole that had so recently accepted four of his fingers.

With what little energy and awareness he had he cocked his hips slightly to accept the intrusion.

Potter’s lips were at his ear, “Can’t let you go without having my filthy half blood cock up your arse, can I?”

Draco’s lips curved at the words and he let Potter lace their fingers together either side of his head. Potter’s hands lying upwards as he propped himself on his elbows, and his own draped over them.

Potter rolled his hips and pushed himself deeper with a moan, using only the left over lube from his fingers. “Still so tight even after all that, must be that exceptional pureblood breeding of yours. Do they breed specifically for tight arses and willing mouths?”

Draco groaned himself, there was something inside him that rolled over for Potter’s filthy insults. And right now he didn’t care why as long as Potter kept it up. He turned his head seeking that mouth and Potter gave it to him even as he thrust all the way into him. His legs were shoved wider as Potter moved to get more traction and they kissed awkwardly with sliding reaching tongues. 

Potter was thrusting into him hard and fast now and they had to break off the kiss.

“Fuck, Draco,” Potter moaned. “Fuck that is good.”

Potter let go of his hands and grabbed him bodily, hauling him up onto his knees. Draco arched his back and pushed against the hard thrusts, his body flying with too much sensation. He couldn’t come again this quickly, but he almost felt like he was, like he had been pulled straight back up to the height he had just fallen from.

“Love fucking you,” Potter was moaning, ramming into him faster and faster. “Love coming inside you. Love it… love it...”

And Draco felt it as he came, his insides suddenly slippery and hot and Potter’s cock jerking into him with ease now. Potter was howling out like he was being murdered.

Finally his heavy weight dropped onto Draco, forcing him back to the floor. They lay there breathless, with Potter’s cock still inside him, Draco’s front growing cold against the floor but his back still roasting with the heat Potter was giving off.

Boneless and exhausted they both dropped off to sleep on the hard floor.


	6. Broken Toy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. This story stands alone up until this point as a finished piece of porn without plot. If you continue reading it from here it wanders into the realms of trying to have a plot and not really knowing where it's going with it. As a result I am making no promises as to where it goes or if it gets finished. The problem is I am enjoying exploring the psychological side of things but I have no actual story to hang it on. It didn't even have a set place in canon until this chapter which firmly places it in the first term of 6th year. So basically, no bitching if there is no resolution, I'll do what I can.

When Harry woke up it was still dark, but he had no idea how long they had been lying there. Long enough that his limbs were stiff and his back was like ice. He felt Malfoy stir as he shifted.

Harry rolled away and felt for his wand, eventually finding it and whispering “Lumos” so they could locate their clothes.

It was only as he was halfway dressed that he realised Malfoy hadn’t got up, that he was just lying on the floor shivering slightly and watching Harry dress. Harry pulled on his jumper and went over. He reached out a hand to help him up, but Malfoy just looked at it.

“Come on, God only knows what time it is, we need to get back to our dorms,” said Harry.

Malfoy reached up slowly and took hold of Harry’s hand, but he was hard to pull up, slow and heavy. When he was on his feet he leaned against Harry, letting his head fall onto his shoulder with a small, animal noise. His arms looped themselves loosely around Harry’s waist.

Harry rubbed his back and sides, trying to warm him up. “Come on, I know it’s cold, but you’ll warm up quick enough once you get to bed.”

He scooped some of Malfoy’s clothes up and handed them to him before pulling out the map to check for teachers patrolling nearby. There was a good chance the charms he’d put on the room had worn off by now, they were lucky not to have been caught.

He glanced up at Malfoy to find him still standing exactly where he had left him, his clothes bundled in his arms, just watching Harry with a disturbingly placid expression.

“Malfoy?”

He perked up slightly at his name and looked at Harry expectantly.

“You need to put your clothes on now.”

He looked down at the clothes in his hands and then slowly began putting them on.

Harry breathed a small sigh of relief, Malfoy was probably just tired, after all Harry had really put him through his paces earlier. He’d be fine once he’d had a proper night’s sleep in a bed.

The map was almost entirely clear, only Professor Sinistra was up patrolling the halls and she was floors away. Even Filch seemed to be in bed. Harry closed it up and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Come on Malfoy, it’s all clear.”

He realised Malfoy hadn’t put his shoes on and kicked them over to him.

“Hurry up, will you.”

Malfoy hurried obediently and followed Harry to the door.

“You go first.”

Malfoy stepped out into the hallway two steps and then turned around and looked back at Harry, going no further.

“Go on, I’ll go once you're clear.”

Instead Malfoy stepped back to Harry and took his hand, his eyes only passing briefly across Harry’s face and then dropping to the floor.

“What is it?” said Harry, starting to get annoyed and slightly frightened. He knew something was wrong, he’d been hoping he could ignore it and it would sort itself out. It wasn’t working.

Malfoy said something so softly Harry couldn’t make it out.

“What?” Harry tugged Malfoy’s chin up with his free hand, trying to make him look at Harry.

His eyes flashed up and back down, despite Harry’s hand under his chin, and he said a little louder but still in a hesitant whisper, “Please, may I stay with you.”

Harry wanted to tell him not to be ridiculous, but a cold hand squeezed his heart at the intonation of the word “please”, the phrasing so similar to requests he had demanded Malfoy make earlier. He had fucked up, he knew he had fucked up. He had pushed too hard, let his excitement and arousal get the better of him. But fuck, I mean, it was Malfoy. Malfoy could give as good as he got… usually… except not since that night in the bathroom had he actually tried to...

“Fuck,” Harry swore under his breath. He thought fast, there was one place they could go. He hadn’t wanted Malfoy to know about it, so he hadn’t used it for their meetings. But he couldn’t take him back to Gryffindor Tower and this required some… lateral thinking. “All right, come on.”

He led Malfoy up the stairs to the seventh floor and let go his hand to pace quickly in front of the spot opposite Barnabus the Barmy thinking, _‘I need a safe place for us to sleep, somewhere we won’t be disturbed.’_

Sure enough the door appeared and he tugged Malfoy inside to find a nicely appointed bedroom in Gryffindor colours with the candles burning low. A large four poster bed dominated the room, it’s hangings open and it’s covers already pulled back.

Harry closed the door behind them and drew Malfoy over to the bed. He undressed him gently but quickly and, throwing off his own clothes rather more carelessly, he got them under the covers.

Malfoy curled peaceably into his side and Harry stroked his hand over the other boy’s soft hair.

“You’ll feel better in the morning,” he told him, hoping fervently that was the case.

As soon as he wished it the candles went out leaving them in the darkness.

“Harry,” said Malfoy quietly a few minutes later.

“Yes?”

“Are you… was I… did I do what you wanted?” his voice was as soft and small as a child.

“You,” Harry’s voice faltered. “You were perfect.”

“Is it okay to go to sleep now or...”

“Go to sleep,” said Harry quickly. “You can go to sleep now. You don’t need to do anything else.”

He felt Malfoy nod, felt his smile against the skin of Harry’s shoulder, felt him settle down and close his eyes, one arm curled around Harry’s waist, one leg over his leg.

A chill ran over Harry despite the warmth, and he sent a prayer in the vague direction of above that this was some strange sleepy night-time aberration brought on by exhaustion and emotional overload and it would be gone as if it had never been at all in the light of day.

–

Harry woke up late in the morning to the unfamiliar but pleasant feel of another body curled around his. The bed they were in was deeply comfortable, the air just the perfect temperature to stop them getting over heated. Sleeping in the Room of Requirement was definitely an experience worth repeating. And as it was the weekend he didn’t even have to worry about the time.

But eventually the pleasant thoughts had to give way to the reason he was here at all instead of sleeping alone in his own bed. Malfoy’s odd behaviour last night. He reached carefully for his glasses and put them back on without disturbing him.

The other boy was still sound asleep, curled into Harry’s side, his light breathing ghosting over Harry’s chest. He looked very young, but it was Harry who suddenly felt vulnerable. They were both barely sixteen, what was he doing? How had this got so ridiculously out of control?

He was shocked at himself suddenly. He was so different recently when he was with Malfoy, and it had been exciting, but suddenly it was terrifying instead. He had reached out and taken a hold of something and he didn’t know how to put it back. He didn’t want to wake Malfoy up. He was afraid of what he would see when he did, of which Malfoy he would be waking up. The appalling one he had spent the last five years hating and yet obsessing over, or the arousingly obedient yet broken toy from last night.

But in the end he had no choice but to face up to reality, as Malfoy was waking up by himself.

Harry lay still as Malfoy slowly came to, waiting to see how he would react. Malfoy blinked sleepily and looked up at Harry and smiled a slow, lazy smile of contentment that looked as odd on his face as Harry’s hard smiles would have looked last night to those who knew him.

“Po...” he started to say, but he immediately corrected himself. “Harry.”

Harry tried not to look worried. “Draco.”

Malfoy looked surprised, but pleased, at the use of his first name. He looked around the room. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere private,” Harry replied, still not wanting Malfoy to understand. But it turned out he already did.

“This is the room you used last year, isn’t it.” Malfoy sat up. “The room that turns into whatever you want.”

Harry frowned, annoyed that Malfoy understood the room, but glad at least that he was talking. That had to be a good sign. “Yeah.”

Malfoy looked back at him. “I was going to use it too,” he said thoughtfully. “But I don’t need to now, do I?”

“What? Use it for what?”

Malfoy looked haunted suddenly. “It doesn’t matter now.” He smiled again and lay back down against Harry. “I don’t have to do what he wants.” He nuzzled against Harry’s shoulder and began to lay a trail of kisses down Harry’s chest and stomach, drawing the covers down to leave them both naked.

“Wait,” said Harry, and Malfoy stopped straight away looking up at him. “Do what who wants? Do you mean Voldemort?”

Malfoy’s face paled at the name, but he nodded his answer tightly.

“What does he want you to do?”

Malfoy pulled away, his arms wrapping around himself, his eyes darting away. “I… he… “

Harry pulled his worry about Malfoy back and stuffed it into a corner of his mind, this was more important than his or Malfoy’s feelings. He sat up and took hold of Malfoy’s chin firmly. “On your knees properly,” he ordered.

Malfoy’s eyes widened even as his shoulders relaxed and he scrambled to sit neatly on his knees, his legs slightly apart, his hands falling to his sides. Harry tried to ignore the pleasure that affected him when Malfoy did as he was told so eagerly. He let his hand run down Malfoy’s throat and chest, tracing the edge of one nipple, gliding down over his firm stomach to stop just above where his cock was already starting to swell. Harry allowed himself to run a finger up it, watching it twitch and rise as he did so. Malfoy’s breathing hitched to match it.

Fuck, he couldn’t believe how tempted he was to just keep going and screw whatever Voldemort’s plans were.

“Hands behind your back,” he said hoarsely.

Malfoy obeyed immediately, his cock hardening further.

“Tell me what Voldemort asked you to do,” Harry demanded, keeping his voice soft but firm, the same tone he had used on Malfoy last night.

Malfoy took a stuttering breath.

Harry teased his nipples, pinching them lightly. “I asked you a question.”

Malfoy nodded, swallowed. “I’m to… to kill the Headmaster,” he replied.

Harry’s hands fell to his side in shock. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it hadn’t been that. “But… but you’re just a student… how could you even...”

“And I’m to find a way to let his people into the school,” Malfoy continued. “That’s what I was going to use the room for, I had a plan, an idea anyway.”

Harry tried to pull himself back together, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Tell me, all of it.”

Malfoy swallowed again and allowed himself to glance at Harry.

Harry stiffened his posture and calmed his face, softened his tone and placed his hand between Malfoy’s legs to gently play with his balls. Oddly it calmed him almost as much as it seemed to calm Malfoy. “Tell me,” he repeated.

Malfoy’s eyes fluttered closed as his cock began to firm up again from where it had flagged slightly. “There’s a room it makes, a room full of junk, I moved a cabinet in there, the broken Vanishing cabinet that Montague got stuck in last year. It’s linked to one in Borgin and Burkes, if I could fix it there would be a way into the school.”

Harry looked around the room in shock, somewhere in whatever dimension the Room of Requirement kept things when they weren’t in use, was a massive hole in Hogwarts defences just waiting to be used.

“But I won’t do it. Not now. I mean, you don’t want me to do it, do you?” Malfoy asked.

Harry focused his gaze back on him, his hand automatically tightening on the fragile handful between Malfoy’s legs. “No, I don’t want you to.”

Malfoy nodded, seemingly satisfied.

‘ _Was that really all it took?_ ’ Harry wondered.

“You’ll help her though won’t you? If I’m good.” Malfoy asked nervously.

“Help who?”

“My Mother. I can string them along for a while, but eventually he’ll realise I’m not following his orders any more. And then he’ll kill her. But you’ll help her won’t you, I mean that’s what you do?”

Harry’s heart broke a little bit in a way it never would have done had he heard this story a few weeks ago. I mean Malfoy had spitefully and intentionally broken his damn nose only the beginning of this term. But that wasn’t this Malfoy… only it was. The pride and the boasting and the posturing were suddenly reframed in Harry’s head from the actions of an arrogant prejudiced copy of his Death Eater father to the actions of a terrified boy who was in too deep and trying to keep his head above the water. Malfoy had been drowning and Harry had a horrible feeling that rather than saving him he may have pushed his head right under. Malfoy wasn’t strong, he was weak, he had always been weak, easily frightened, easily provoked… easily hurt.

“You don’t have to be good for me to try and help your Mother,” he said, drawing away from Malfoy in discomfort. “You don’t have to… have to trade… to get help. You only had to ask.”

Malfoy suddenly looked uncertain again, his posture tense. “You don’t want me?”

“Draco...” Harry didn’t know what to say, what to do.

Malfoy bit his lip, searching Harry’s face. “You can hurt me again, if you like. I don’t mind. You can do whatever you want.”

Harry got off the bed, looked for his clothes. He needed very much not to be naked right now.

“Please,” said Malfoy from behind him. “I want you to.”

Harry pulled on his pants and trousers, angry and embarrassed that he was even slightly hard still.

Malfoy was sounding more and more desperate. “Please don’t go. Tell me what I did wrong. I won’t do it again. I promise.”

Harry dragged his jumper over his head, the fear in his chest making him angry. The fact that he suddenly gave a shit about Malfoy making him furiously confused. He spun around to the naked boy on the bed, still kneeling with his hands clenched together behind his back, tears in his eyes but not yet spilling over. He strode back to him. “What do you want, Malfoy,” he all but shouted. “Tell me what _you_ _actually_ want!”

Malfoy was trembling and one tear trickled down his cheek. “I… I…” he stuttered. “I want you to hit me, p… please.”

His vision tunnelling Harry lifted his right arm and slapped Malfoy so hard across the face that he fell over.

Harry grasped his hand instantly, the pain burning his palm and aching in the bones of his fingers. “Oh, God,” he gasped in shock. “I didn’t...”

Malfoy just lay there like he’d been thrown away, boneless, his face buried in the sheets and his fine hair everywhere. His only movement was in his heaving chest.

Harry knew he should do something, but he didn’t trust himself. He grabbed his wand from the bedside table and fled the room.

–

The Common Room was busy, but he didn’t look around, just plunged through the noisy crowds and threw himself up the stairs to his dorm, which was thankfully empty. He should be going to the Headmaster, but he wasn’t up to it just yet. He wasn’t up to seeing anyone right now.

He remembered how worried he’d been last year, that there was something wrong with him, that he was dangerous. He had thought all that was past, that he had been mistaken… but he hadn’t, it had been there all along. There was something dark inside him, something that liked to hurt people, that took pleasure in pain.

He stood in the middle of the room, shaking, his breath coming in painful gulps that felt wrong, everything felt wrong. He dropped his wand and hauled his jumper back over his head, its heat oppressive, his skin clammy with sweat. The air on his skin felt wrong, his skin felt wrong. He suddenly realised he had started holding his breath and couldn’t do so any longer, he gulped in a huge gasp of air, but the act of breathing made him nauseous and he immediately stopped again, his hands clawing at his arms as he hugged himself as tight as he could. He was going to explode, he couldn’t bear it, something was wrong, everything was wrong…

Someone tugged him around and he found himself staring into the face of his best friend, Ron. His mouth was moving, but Harry could barely hear anything past the thudding of his pulse in his ears. He just stared at him, his vision going grey around the edges.

Ron was shaking him. “… Harry!”

Harry gasped like a fish on land.

“He’s hyper-ventilating,” came Hermione’s voice. “You need to take deeper breaths, Harry.”

Her face swam into view, he seemed to have dropped to his knees.

“Listen to my voice, Harry. Breath in with me, slowly.” Her hands were on his face, then stroking down his arms. “Breathe out with me, Harry. It’s all right. You’re all right, you just need to slow down.”

“We should take him to Madame Pomfrey,” said Ron. “She can give him a Calming Draught.”

But the slow repetitive stroking of his arm seemed to be helping Harry to regulate his breathing, he focused on the feel of it.

“That’s right, Harry. That’s better,” Hermione said. “Can you get some water, Ron?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

Harry managed to focus on Hermione’s face as Ron headed off to the bathroom. “Hermione,” he said.

“That’s me,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Feeling better?”

Harry took another couple of slow breaths before replying. “A bit.”

Ron came back and thrust a glass of water at him. He drank it down.

“You all right, mate? Where’ve you been?”

Hermoine shushed Ron. “Don’t bother him, let him sit.”

“No,” said Harry. “No I can’t, I have to...” he didn’t know what he had to do. He had no fucking idea what to do.

“It’s okay, Harry,” Hermione soothed him. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Harry put the glass down and shook his head sadly. “Yes I do, I’ve really fucked up. I mean really really fucked up.”

“Well,” said Hermione. “Well then we’ll fix it, won’t we. Whatever it is.”

“God I hope so,” said Harry fervently. He looked at them both. “I think… um, I don’t know how to… what to…”

“Why don’t you just start at the beginning?” said Hermione.

Harry blushed furiously. “I don’t think I can,” he said. “This isn’t like… I mean it’s… it’s personal… like really personal.”

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully, then over at Ron, than back at Harry. Finally she spoke her mind. “Is this something to do with Malfoy?”

Harry’s shock must have been apparent.

“The two of you have been weird lately, especially around each other. Everyone’s noticed.”

“Yeah, mate. Even me and you know how oblivious I can be,” added Ron.

Harry found himself burning with embarrassment again. But really, what right did he have sitting here worrying about his reputation or his privacy after the way he’d left Malfoy in the Room of Requirement. His pride had no place in this conversation after the way he had been behaving. He needed to tell them what was going on.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Yeah it’s… to do with Malfoy. It’s… we’ve… look it’s just I’ve fucked up, okay, and I think I’ve… hurt him.”

They both looked confused.

“Well,” said Hermione. “I mean… do you mean seriously… I mean,” she suddenly looked a little panicked. “Is he badly hurt? Where is he, did you take him to the Hospital Wing?”

“He’s… he’s in the Room of Requirement,” Harry told her. “He… I… I mean I hit him, but he’s not… badly hurt, I don’t think.”

“What were you doing in there with him?” asked Ron, deeply unconcerned about Malfoy getting hit.

“I took him there last night,” Harry tried to explain. “You have to understand it’s not that I’ve hurt him physically, I mean I have, I mean it’s more than that. I’ve broken him,” he gasped, and it all began pouring out. “I think I’ve broken him and I don’t know what to do and Voldemort wants him to kill Dumbledore or he’ll kill Malfoy’s Mum and Malfoy thinks I can save her but he thinks he has to… I made him think he had to… Oh, God. I did things to him… things I shouldn’t have done… and I made him… I….” and that was as much as he could manage because he had started to cry in loud gulping sobs that made him double over as they ripped out of him painfully. “There’s something wrong with me… something really really wrong.”

Hermione and Ron exchanged worried looks over Harry’s bent over head.

–

Draco heard him leave, heard the door close behind him, and still he lay there on the bed, shocked. His head rang and his jaw ached from the strength of Harry’s blow. His head was empty from it. He just lay still and quiet until he could think again. It took a while.

Eventually he sat up cautiously and felt his face. His cheek was swollen and tender over the point of his cheekbone and round his eye and his jaw ached in the place where it joined his skull. But that didn’t matter, not really, it was only pain. He was used to pain, he’d felt enough of it over the summer.

Harry was upset with him, he was sure of that much. Was he angry because he had said he was supposed to kill the Headmaster? He thought he’d made it clear he wouldn’t do it. He’d thought Harry understood that he wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want him to do. He must have explained things wrong. Or maybe he had failed to notice something that Harry had wanted him to do, Harry didn’t always ask out loud, sometimes he had to try and guess what it was he wanted. But usually Harry didn’t mind that much if he got it wrong, usually he’d just tell him.

Of course. He shouldn’t have asked about his Mother, it was too soon, he should have waited, that was it. He should have waited for Harry to ask if there was something he could do, for him to offer to help. He had been too greedy, too impatient, he was always too impatient. His Father always told him so, always asking for things, always being a bother.

He was learning though, he was trying. The Dark Lord had taught him to do as he was told, taught him the consequences of being careless.

He had thought he had found his place, however much he had detested it. Until Potter had shown him that he could be just as demanding, just as strong. Shown him that he had the control and the power too, that he was someone who would be obeyed. And that meant he could defeat him after all, he could win. His Father had told him that Potter and Dumbledore were weak and unable to be cruel and therefore they would always lose. Harry had proven his Father wrong.

But Draco still needed to prove himself, he had foolishly thought last night was enough. Well Harry had shown him the error of his ways. Now all he could do was hope for another chance, that Harry might come back and let him try again.

He stood up and wondered whether he ought to wait here. It was the weekend, he didn’t have anywhere he had to be, and although his dorm mates would wonder why he hadn’t been in his bed this morning he could easily make up some excuse. To Crabbe and Goyle he could simply claim he had worked late on the Cabinet and fallen asleep… well, exactly where he was ironically enough.

But he felt anxious not knowing what Harry would expect of him. To stay or to go?

He decided he ought to stay a little while, in case it was just a test and Harry would come back soon. But he hadn’t been explicitly told to stay here, so if Harry still hadn’t returned after an hour or two he’d leave and hope that he would get in touch soon.

He lay back down on the bed to wait and after a little while he was thinking about how pleased Harry had been with him the night before. How he’d praised him for his obedience. It made him warm just thinking about it. He was sure Harry would forgive him for this morning, when he’d been so good last night.

He heard the creak of the door and sat up quickly.

–

Harry forced himself to open the door, he knew Malfoy had to still be inside or the door wouldn’t have still been there. Hermione had tried to open it first, but it wouldn’t open for her. He had created the room to be private. He doubted they would even have been able to see the door if they hadn’t been with him.

Malfoy was sitting up on the bed, still naked. But when he saw Harry wasn’t alone he flushed and tugged the sheet over himself.

Ron froze in the door as soon as he clocked Malfoy naked in a very large and sumptuous looking bed. Hermione kept her head a bit better and grabbed him by the arm to haul him inside so that the door could be closed again.

“Wha...” gaped Ron. “What… is this?”

Harry tried his best to ignore his embarrassment and gathered up Malfoy’s clothes from the floor by the bed. He held them out to the other boy awkwardly, his face bright red with humiliation. “Get dressed,” he muttered, feeling certain the other boy wouldn’t do so without a direct request.

Malfoy took the clothes and did as he was told, his face was also red, and Harry was oddly comforted that Malfoy wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t be embarrassed to be seen naked by someone who wasn’t Harry. Although not all of that red was his blush, Harry could see the mark he had left on his face earlier.

Harry sat down on the bed and reached for his face. Malfoy paused in his dressing to let Harry turn his face towards him.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry, stroking the pad of his thumb over Malfoy’s cheekbone. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He could hear Ron and Hermione muttering behind him, but he ignored them for the moment.

Malfoy frowned. “You’re not angry with me?”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But, it’s all right,” Malfoy protested. “You don’t have to… you shouldn’t apologise. Father says...”

Harry felt his hand tense and saw Malfoy react to it with a nervous twitch. He pulled his hand away and put it in his lap. Before he could figure out what to say he heard the door open and close behind him and he turned to look.

Ron had left and only Hermione was still standing there looking worried.

“It’s okay,” said Hermione. “He’s not upset, just a bit confused and... he just thought he probably wouldn’t be much help.”

Harry nodded, he doubted it was as simple as that but it would do for now.

“I’m… a bit confused too,” Hermione admitted.

“Join the club,” said Harry with a heavy sigh.

Malfoy had put the rest of his clothes on. “Do you want me to go now?” he asked quietly.

“No,” said Harry. “You’re fine just there. Do you need anything?”

Malfoy looked at him with anxious eyes and shook his head.

Harry didn’t believe him, but he doubted he could easily get Malfoy to admit otherwise.

“Why does he keep asking you what to do?” asked Hermione carefully, still standing back by the door.

Harry wasn’t sure how to answer that, he didn’t really understand it himself. He looked at Malfoy, who was nervously twisting his hands in his lap. He suddenly had a burst of inspiration.

“Malfoy,” he said, taking hold of his hands to stop him fidgeting and trying to make his voice sound confident and calm. “I want you to answer Hermione.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened and he looked over at Hermione who looked startled at having his attention on her. But she repeated her question all the same, “Why do you keep asking Harry what to do?”

Malfoy licked his lips and his hand tightened in Harry’s. He looked at Harry again and Harry nodded to him to speak. “Tell her.”

“It’s… it’s important to do as you're told,” he stammered. “If… if I didn’t ask I might… do the wrong thing. And he likes me to ask.”

Hermione considered that, but Harry couldn’t stay quiet as Malfoy immediately turned back to Harry to see if he was pleased with his answer. “You don’t have to,” Harry tried to explain. “I know when we… um... you know, like we did last night… but you don’t have to do what I want all the time. You don’t even have to then… I mean not if you don’t want to. Don’t you understand? I only want you to if _you_ want to. I thought… I mean I thought you understood that.”

“But you like it when I ask, don’t you?” asked Malfoy. There was a slight desperation in his voice.

Harry faltered, because, God help him, it was true. As much as it terrified him, he did like it. No one ever seemed to ask him what he wanted, things just happened to him, he was moved from one place to another, thrown into danger over and over as if he had no power at all. And here was Malfoy asking him what he wanted and perfectly willing to do it, no matter what it was. If he asked him to jump off the Astronomy Tower he was both terrified and exhilarated at the idea that Malfoy just might do it. And not because he was forcing him to, but just because Harry had asked for it.

Eventually he said softly. “Yes, I do like it.”

Malfoy smiled.

“But I would also like it if you only asked me when you absolutely needed to. I would prefer if you made your own decisions the rest of the time and did what you wanted unless I specifically tell you otherwise.” He heard Hermione gasp. “Can you do that for me?”

He could see Malfoy considering what Harry had said. “That’s why you were upset this morning,” he finally responded. “I understand. I won’t ask as much.”

Harry could hardly argue, it was why he had been upset this morning. Although that didn’t in any way mitigate what he had done and he didn’t think it really got to the root of everything that was messed up about all this. But he simply said, “Thank you.” Ignoring Hermione, he leaned forward and lightly kissed the other boy on the mouth and then on the cheek and the edge of his brow where he was still marked by Harry’s hand. He didn’t care if they were being watched, he had some truly appalling behaviour to make up for and he wanted to be sure Draco understood that he was cared for. Because, and fuck it all for being beyond comprehension, he did care for him. How could he not at this stage?

He turned back to Hermione trying not to look as nervous as he felt. For whatever reason Malfoy needed him to be strong, needed him to know what he was doing. So he would just have to do his best to try to.

Hermione’s eyes were enormous as she stared at the two of them.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Harry told her. “I freaked out a bit, I’m okay now.”

“Harry,” Hermione breathed. “I really don’t think that anything is okay about this.”

Harry bit his lip and turned back to Malfoy. “I think you should go now and make whatever excuses you need to for being away all night.”

Draco nodded and slipped off of the bed, pausing in front of Harry but not wanting to ask.

“I’ll be in touch soon,” Harry assured him.

Draco nodded and made his way past Hermione, who stepped aside to give him a wide berth.

As soon as he had shut the door behind him she was on Harry in a few swift strides. “What are you doing? You can’t! You can’t just… I mean how did this even happen! What’s wrong with him?”

Harry rubbed his face, he was tired. He had slept well, but this morning had been draining to say the least. “I don’t really know what’s wrong with him. I think… I think he’s been pushed too far and he can’t handle it any more.”

“Pushed by you?”

“A little, yes,” Harry admitted. “But mostly pushed by Voldemort.”

“You said something about that earlier, about his Mum?”

“He’s been ordered to kill the Headmaster and let Death Eaters into the school and if he fails Voldemort is going to kill his Mother,” Harry said frankly.

Hermione put her hand to her mouth. “But… I mean surely they can’t expect him to do any of that.”

“I don’t know, he actually had a halfway good plan to accomplish some of it. But he won’t do it, not now.”

“Because of you?”

“I can’t say I really understand it, but if it’s stopping him then that’s a good thing, right?”

“Oh, Harry. Malfoy needs help, that much is obvious. But this isn’t the way to give it to him.”

Harry flushed, “You don’t understand. It makes him happy, didn’t you see that? I know it’s a bit odd, and I know I didn’t handle things that well this morning, but I’ll be more careful.”

“I think we should go and talk to Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione replied.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “We’ll need his help if we’re to do anything about Draco’s Mother.”

Hermione looked as if that wasn’t at all what she had meant, but she let it slide. “Come on then. No time like the present.”


	7. The Serpent's Choice

The Headmaster was less helpful than Harry had hoped.

“And how did you come by this information?” he asked.

“Malfoy told me,” Harry said.

The Headmaster looked at him in puzzlement. “Mr Malfoy told you that he was trying to kill me?”

“Yes.”

“Forgive me, but that seems rather out of character. Did you perhaps mean he said that he hoped I would die? Or that the Death Eaters were going to kill me? I am aware that Mr Malfoy holds me in little esteem. But I very much doubt he is planning to do me in all by himself, and even if he were… well, I think I can manage to fend him off.” The Headmaster laughed.

“This isn’t a joke, Professor, or a mistake,” Harry said, rather annoyed. “Voldemort has ordered Malfoy to kill you and to find a way to get Death Eaters into the castle, and he’s found a way!”

“A way into the castle?” Dumbledore seemed a little more intent at that.

“Yes, there’s a Vanishing Cabinet that links to another one in Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley. _That’s_ what Malfoy was talking to Borgin about when we saw him there. The one here is broken, but he was going to fix it and then the Death Eaters would have been able to travel through it into the school.”

“Was going to?”

“He’s… not any more. But it’s still dangerous, it needs to be destroyed.”

The Headmaster looked at Harry shrewdly. “There’s one thing I don’t quite understand. You say Mr Malfoy told you all of this, why would he reveal his plans to you, of all people?”

Harry and Hermione exchanged an uncertain look.

“I told him I would help his Mother,” Harry said quickly. “He told me in return for that.”

Hermione glared at him, but didn’t give away his lie.

“I presume his Mother is the incentive for him to succeed,” said Dumbledore. “But I don’t see how exactly you plan to help her.”

“I… don’t know. I thought maybe you could...”

Dumbledore looked troubled. “Harry if you have somehow tricked Mr Malfoy into revealing his secrets, you must tell me exactly what you have done. This is a very delicate situation, and one that I was already, at least partially, aware of. I did not know about the Vanishing Cabinet, and so I thank you for finding that out. I thought Mr Malfoy alone at the school but for his friends in Slytherin House. Had he succeeded in bringing actual Death Eaters into the school… well, I dread to think of the consequences. But that aside, his own safety and that of… others, may be compromised by your attempts to prove him a danger.”

But whatever Harry might have thought of to say to that was interrupted by Professor McGonagall striding into the room. “Albus… Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had company.”

“Come in, Minerva. You look as though it were urgent?”

“Well, not urgent. But you did say that you wanted to be informed should there be any serious difficulties involving Mr. Malfoy.”

“What’s happened to him?” Harry asked, before he could think better of it.

Professor McGonagall looked at him, her brow furrowed. “Well, I suppose you would find out anyway, as it is Mr Weasley whom he has sent to the hospital wing.”

Hermione gasped.

“There was an altercation outside the Great Hall. Mr Weasley was hit with a mouth sealing hex. Mr Malfoy looked to have been hit physically, but he refused to go to see Madame Pomfrey and as he seemed relatively unhurt I did not insist. They have of course both been given detention this evening.”

“Do you know what the argument was about, Minerva?”

“I assume it was what it is always about, a complete inability to be in each others presence without insulting each other,” Minerva sniffed, casting a dark eye at Harry. “I did not enquire as to who had said what as I grow tired of listening to the same nonsense over and over again.”

“Very well, I leave you to deal with Mr Weasley’s detention, but I think I shall take Mr. Malfoy myself. Seven pm in my office, if you will make sure he knows.”

Professor McGonagall seemed surprised, but simply nodded and left the room.

“I’m going to see Ron,” Hermione announced. Then turned to the Headmaster. “If that’s all right Professor?”

“Of course Miss Granger.”

Hermione glared at Harry, “Well, are you coming?”

“Actually,” said Professor Dumbledore. “I think I will keep Harry a few minutes longer.”

When Hermione had left Harry fidgeted silently, waiting for whatever Professor Dumbledore had to say.

The silence stretched out for a long time.

“I wasn’t trying to get Malfoy to tell me anything,” Harry said finally.

Dumbledore did not reply.

“I only got him to tell me cause he already said something about Voldemort wanting him to do something but that he wasn’t going to do it. I didn’t tell him not to do it, he said he wasn’t going to do it.”

He looked up at Dumbledore, but the old man just sat there calmly watching him.

“So you see I didn’t trick him or anything, he just told me.”

They faced off for another long moment before Harry broke his gaze away again.

“So you should help him, cause he’ll be in trouble if he doesn’t do it, won’t he?”

Dumbledore finally spoke. “Yes, he will. His life will be forfeit, and likely that of his parents as well. What I don’t understand is what you think I can do to save them?”

Harry looked at him in horror. “But, I mean... That’s what we do. The Order of the Phoenix. Isn’t it?”

“The Order of the Phoenix exists to defeat Tom Riddle and those who fight alongside him, to protect the world as a whole. What other good we can do is entirely dependent on that larger goal.”

“But...”

“Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy made their choice a long time ago. They avoided paying for it the first time Tom was defeated, it may be that their time has finally come. At this moment I cannot see how I could possibly assist them without risking far more than they are worth.”

“But… they’re his parents!”

“They are, and a great many parents and children will no doubt die before the end of this war… for this is a war Harry, do not mistake it for anything less.”

Harry stared at him open mouthed.

“Do not look at me so aghast, Harry. I fully intend to help Draco, he is a child and a student under my care. But I cannot, and I am afraid, will not as the situation stands, help his parents. And the methods of my helping must be my choice and not his or yours. I will speak to Draco tonight about his options.”

It was clearly a dismissal, and Harry began to stand up.

“I suggest that in the future you do not make promises that you cannot keep, Harry,” said Dumbledore gravely. “I understand that you mean well, but you may cause more harm than you prevent.”

Harry frowned but did not answer back. He left the room downhearted and worried to go and find out what had happened between Draco and Ron.

He located Hermione and Ron in the Hospital Wing, Ron looked rather unusual as his mouth had completely vanished to be replaced with smooth, unbroken, but freckled, skin. He and Hermione appeared to have been conversing with the aid of parchment and a quill.

“What happened?” asked Harry, looking around the room. “Has Madame Pomfrey not fixed him yet?”

“She can’t,” said Hermione, sounding annoyed but resigned. “It was too strong a hex. He’ll have to wait for it to wear off a bit before she can do anything, she said she should be able to remove it this evening.”

Ron picked up a sheet of paper and waved it at Harry. It said, “Bloody fucking Malfoy!”

“Oh, give it up, Ronald,” said Hermione, snatching the paper out of his hand. “You know perfectly well you started it.”

“What did happen?” Harry asked again.

“Ronald decided to warn Malfoy off about spending time with you, and of course all that happened is they got into a fight about it. According to Ginny, Ronald punched Malfoy in the stomach, shouting all sorts of stuff about Malfoy trying to seduce you, and then Malfoy hexed his mouth shut. Which, all things considered, was probably for the best.”

Ron grunted at her angrily.

“I agree with Hermione,” said Harry pointedly. “And it should be pretty obvious why. I hardly need my personal business aired all over the school. So if you thought you were doing me some sort of favour, you weren’t.”

Ron looked sulky.

“Look, it’s just none of your business what I do with Malfoy. I know it’s my own fault for this morning, but it won’t happen again. So if you stay out of it, I won’t flaunt it in your face. Deal?”

Ron squinted at him and shrugged his shoulder incomprehensibly, eventually he grabbed the parchment back and wrote. “But why?”

Harry sighed. “Look, things have changed between me and him. I’m not asking you to like it or him, just to not make things anymore complicated.” He lowered his voice. “I know he’s a git, but he’s switching sides, and that’s dangerous enough without the school knowing that we’re doing… whatever we’re doing. He’s the one who needs protecting, not me.”

Ron scribbled on the parchment again. “And if he’s lying?”

“You’ll just have to trust me when I say he’s not. Weren’t you two the ones trying to convince me he wasn’t up to anything?”

Ron gave a sour look and scribbled, “We’ll talk about it when I can bloody talk.”

“Fine, but in private. We can’t go talking about this where anyone might hear. It’s too dangerous.”

Ron nodded his agreement.

Harry spent the afternoon with Ron and Hermione, doing homework and losing at chess. Ron couldn’t eat and so Harry and Hermione had missed lunch in the Great Hall in solidarity, and having missed breakfast too Harry was starving by the time dinner came around. He was also hoping to grab a chance to speak to Malfoy before he went up to see Dumbledore.

He caught Malfoy’s eye and saw his slight nod in response, and after dinner he found him hovering near the classroom they used to meet in. He walked past Malfoy, saying quietly, “Where we were this morning, ten minutes,” without stopping, then continued upstairs.

Sure enough, about ten minutes after he had entered the Room of Requirement, Malfoy opened the door. The room was different from the way it had looked this morning, there was no bed for a start, just a fairly plain room that looked a bit like a simplified version of the Gryffindor Common Room but with a lot less red and gold.

“I have to go see the Headmaster for detention at seven,” Malfoy told him, still standing near the closed door, looking nervous.

“I know, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I’m sorry,” Malfoy blurted. “About Weasley.”

“Are you?” Harry asked, curious.

“Well...no… but, I mean...”

“It’s all right. We’re not here so I can yell at you for hexing Ron, I’m glad you stood up to him. Kind of a relief actually.”

“Really?” said Malfoy, coming a bit closer.

“Yeah.” Harry held out his hand and beckoned. “Come here.”

Malfoy came to him immediately and dropped to his knees on the rug.

“Don’t,” said Harry, even as he automatically twined his hand into Malfoy’s hair. “You’ll distract me and then you’ll end up being late for detention.” He could already feel the desire curling in him. Malfoy dropped his forehead against Harry’s thigh as Harry scratched his nails against the back of his scalp. Harry pulled away and sat down on the couch. “Come and sit here with me.”

But instead of standing up, Malfoy moved over on his knees to kneel down at Harry’s feet, looking up at him, but keeping his eyes dropped.

“God, what you do to me,” Harry murmured, and ran his thumb over Malfoy’s lower lip. “I spoke to Dumbledore this morning, that’s why he wants to talk to you.”

Now Draco did meet his eyes.

“He doesn’t know anything about… this.” Harry gestured to take in Malfoy, the room, and everything that lay between them. “But he knows about what Voldemort asked you to do, what you told me, in fact he said he already knew what you’d been asked to do… but he’s not very happy with me. He doesn’t understand why you would talk to me, he thinks I tricked you.”

“I won’t talk to him if you don’t want me to,” Malfoy said.

“No,” said Harry. “Go, see what he has to say. Tell him the truth about Voldemort and your parents, anything he wants to know. But don’t tell him about us. If he asks why you talked to me, just tell him… I don’t know...”

“I can think of something,” Malfoy suggested cautiously. “Make it sound good, if you don’t want him to know the truth. It’s none of his business anyway, what we do. It’s no-one’s business.”

“Exactly.” Harry could hear the tinge of accusation in Malfoy’s words. “I really am sorry about this morning. About Ron and Hermione. I… made a mistake, going to them. I’m just used to them being there, when I need them, and I panicked for a moment. But it wasn’t just my secret, I won’t talk to them again about what we do and they won’t tell anyone.”

“Won’t they?” for a moment Malfoy sounded more like his old self, it seemed to come and go.

“They may not approve, but they’re my best friends. They wouldn’t betray me.”

“What do they know?”

“Not anything really,” said Harry thoughtfully. “That we’re somehow seeing each other, that it’s not entirely… um, what people normally do. That you’re on our side now.”

“On _your_ side,” said Malfoy.

“On my side,” repeated Harry. He looked Malfoy over. “I want you to meet me here again, after you’re done with Dumbledore. I want to know what he says to you.”

“Of course,” said Malfoy. “You’re not sure if he’s going to help, are you?”

Harry pursed his lips. “I don’t know what he’s thinking. But… he says he’s looking at the bigger picture. At the war as a whole...”

“And I’m just one tiny piece,” finished Malfoy.

“He’s a powerful wizard, and he knows a lot more than we do about everything,” said Harry. “He will help you, so promise to listen to him. Just...”

“I don’t trust him,” said Malfoy. “I trust you.”

“Then trust me when I say you can trust him. But no matter what he says, don’t panic, just come back here and talk to me and if anything needs dealt with, we’ll figure things out.”

“If he knows what I was trying to do, he might think it was safer if I wasn’t here, at the school. That would be the bigger picture, wouldn’t it?”

Harry could see Malfoy starting to quietly panic. “No, not for Dumbledore. You’re one of his students, he wouldn’t put you in danger. I know that, I know him better than you.” Although Harry was less certain than he was trying to sound, but that was a matter for him to deal with alone. Malfoy needed to believe in Dumbledore, and even more so, in Harry. “Come up here,” he patted the couch next to him.

Malfoy crawled onto the couch, facing Harry, his knees against the outside of Harry’s thigh and his feet tucked up.

Harry curved a hand around Malfoy’s jaw and drew his face closer so he could kiss him.

Malfoy immediately moved into him, ending up in his lap, as they kissed.

Yes, this was how to deal with worries. Malfoy was warm and pliable, heavy in all the right ways as his arms looped around Harry’s neck and his mouth opened to him. After a bit Harry took his hips and shifted him, urging him to lift up and straddle Harry’s legs so he could pull him closer. Despite temptation, Harry stopped himself from trying to undress the other boy, there wasn’t time for anything more than this.

Eventually, ignoring his straining erection, he pushed the other boy away. “You better straighten yourself up, you need to go.” Malfoy’s eyes were hazy and Harry took hold of his chin. “Pull yourself back,” he ordered firmly. “Come on, time to go.”

He let go and Malfoy nodded, the softness shuttering again.

He stood up and sorted out his clothes and hair.

“Your mouth is giving you away,” said Harry. “You look exactly like you’ve just spent half an hour being snogged.”

Malfoy touched his reddened lips, swollen where Harry had been sucking them into his mouth and nipping at them, then pulled out his wand and muttered a charm Harry didn’t recognise. It seemed to do the trick anyway.

“Off you go then,” Harry said. “I’ll wait for you here.”

Malfoy nodded and left the room, leaving Harry to worry about their options, and about what Professor Dumbledore might or might not realise.

Harry spent a couple of hours doing the last of his homework as he waited for Malfoy to return. He didn’t get a lot done as he couldn’t help trying to figure out what Dumbledore might say to Malfoy.

When the other boy finally returned Harry was doing nothing more than staring into the fire and fiddling with his quill, ink all over his fingers.

Malfoy shut the door and walked over to Harry, almost as lost in thought as he was.

“Are you okay? What did he say?” Harry quickly wiped the ink of his fingers and took his hands.

Malfoy looked at him in bewilderment. “He wants me to keep trying. To pretend nothing has changed.”

“Keep trying what?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Keep trying to kill him!”

“Wh… what?”

“He even offered to obliviate me so I didn’t remember telling you or talking to him.”

“Obliviate you!” Harry shot to his feet. “He can’t do that! You’d forget everything.”

“I said no,” Malfoy said quickly. “I told him I plan to learn Occlumency and he said I should let Professor Snape help me with it. What do you think? Snape’s been trying to get me to talk to him ever since I got back, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Snape’s a terrible teacher, and if you go to him he’ll see what we’ve been doing. He tried to teach me Occlumency last year and it was awful, all he did was trawl through all my most embarassing personal memories and give me a headache. I didn’t learn anything.”

“Oh,” Malfoy sounded disappointed. “I guess I’ll work on it alone then. I’ve got time at least, I’m going to stay here at Christmas.”

“Did he… did he ask about why you told me?”

Malfoy smirked. “I told him that I realised I had been given an unachievable task and I sat down and figured out what was most likely to keep me and my Mother safe. He thinks I turned to you entirely out of enlightened self interest. Very Slytherin of me. And of course it’s true.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re going to beat him. I know power when I see it. I can feel it, it’s in my blood. You’re going to win, so I want to be on your side. It’s as simple as that.”

Harry doubted very much it was as simple as that, but figured it was best not to say that. He didn’t understand why Malfoy thought the way Harry behaved when they were together meant he could defeat Voldemort. He suspected it was because Malfoy was broken in some fundamental way, but then it appeared he was too, and the way they were broken seemed to fit together so very nicely. Why not just let it be.

“Everything’s good then, for now?” Harry asked.

“I suppose it is.”

Harry smiled, feeling the tight shape of the edges of his mouth curl in that certain way, knowing that Malfoy registered it too as there was a slight hitch in his breathing. “Then I think you better get on your knees.”

Malfoy dropped immediately, a shiver running over his shoulders. His head tipped up towards Harry, but his eyelids dropped, shuttering his gaze.

Harry caressed his jawline. “Why is it that you’re not marked, Malfoy?” he asked. “I was certain you were, until I saw you in the bathroom that night.”

“It was my Mother’s idea,” Malfoy answered. “She can be very persuasive, and fortunately Aunt Bella agreed with her and the Dark Lord likes her. They said it would assuage suspicion, if a few people happened to see that my arm was still clean.”

“I’m glad,” said Harry, unbuttoning Malfoy’s shirt with a flick of his wand and pushing it off to leave him bare chested. “I wouldn’t want to see his mark on my property.”

Malfoy shivered again, a full body ripple this time.

“You are my property, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” whispered Malfoy.

Harry lifted his left arm and stroked the soft skin that led from his pulse point to the crook of his elbow. “I won’t have you playing both sides, I won’t have Dumbledore deciding that you should join him for your own safety or something stupid like that. You can pretend while we’re here at school if you must, if that’s what the Headmaster thinks best. But when the school year ends, you’re not going back to him.”

“I’m not?”

“He’ll make you take the mark, or he’ll kill you. I know how he thinks, I’ve had him inside my head. It’s too dangerous.”

Malfoy opened his eyes, startled, and looked up at Harry.

“You heard right, Tom and I… we know each other. He doesn’t understand me very well, but I think I understand him. It disgusts me, but I’m learning more about him all the time.”

“Tom?”

“That’s his real name. Tom Riddle, an orphaned half blood with a chip on his shoulder and a fractured soul. A thief and a murderer who mistakes hatred for power. He doesn’t care about anyone, he doesn’t know how to. But I do.”

“You care about me?” asked Malfoy hopefully.

“Yes,” said Harry softly, with a small smile. Still holding Malfoy’s arm he lifted his other hand to stroke his face again, bending over to kiss him lightly. “Which is why I’m stealing you away from him. I’m going to mark you, Draco Malfoy, and if you don’t want me to you better tell me stop now because once it’s done there’s no going back.”

Harry had been thinking of this for days now. There were so many similarities between him and Tom Riddle, sometimes it seemed that in every way he mirrored what Voldemort did. Equal and opposite. It had brought the thought into his mind, the way Voldemort marked his followers as slaves to him. Marked them with an ugly, painful mark. Made him think of the marks he sometimes left on Malfoy’s body, marks that represented a pain that was pleasure, a submission that was freely given. Made him think about how much they both enjoyed looking at those marks, knowing they were there. But they always faded, or had to be healed so as not to be seen. He thought about Malfoy taking Voldemort’s mark, about how angry Harry would be to see that marring his skin.

Malfoy looked at his arm, where Harry was gripping it firmly. He wasn’t sure what Harry had planned, but he was being asked for permission. No-one had asked him if he wanted Voldemort’s mark. He had just been told he would take it, and then told that he wouldn’t. He looked back up at Harry and smiled, pushing his arm a little into his grasp to indicate his assent. If Harry wanted to mark him in some way that could only be a good thing, it was a commitment, a promise of safety.

Harry brought up his wand and concentrated, he had drawn the image out only a couple of days ago, but it was firm in his mind and he had memorised the spells required to create a permanent tattoo. He hadn’t been sure if he would actually use them, but the thought of making it impossible for Draco to be marked burned like a flame in him. The thought of replacing that possibility with his own mark, a mark of life instead of death. Colourful and beautiful instead of bleak and ugly.

And he let all this fill his mind as he moved his wand through the shapes, muttering the charms and curses needed to make it happen.

Malfoy was breathing heavily. It was painful, but not the agony he had heard people scream out their throats over when the Dark Lord marked them. It burned, an intense heat that was just this side of bearable, and made sweat break out all over his body. It tickled like a thousand fingers stroking over and over, teasing and playing, forcing him to grit his teeth to stop himself from pulling away from the intensity of it. It tugged at something inside of him, like his heart was being pulled into his arm, his pulse thundering.

Under Harry’s wand colour flooded out; emerald green, firey red, earthy brown, smokey grey. But never black.

When he drew his wand away a brilliant green snake curled over Malfoy’s forearm, laying over and around a background of leaves and bright red apples.

“What does it mean?” asked Malfoy, his voice shaky.

“It means choice,” said Harry. “Knowledge and life and freedom to choose your own path.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very pleased at how popular this story seems to be but I do hope you will try some of my other stories as well. If you like smut you will not be disappointed.


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